


An Oasis in your Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Desert AU, Fluff, Multi, Slow Build, kisumi's basically evil, makoto's a cute nervous wreck, sousuke isn't as slick as he thinks, they're both dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto's seen the world - he knows it well, after spending moons travelling across the silk road and trading a thousand times over for his family's small healing business. He knows the open expanse of golden desert better than he knows his own home.<br/>So, when he finally returns with the desert winds behind him, the last thing he expects to welcome him home is a handsome, wounded general in need of his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Makoto awoke to a camel gnawing on his hair. 

Such awakenings weren’t uncommon, considering the camel that Makoto had been travelling with since the quarter moon would eat anything it could digest, and Makoto’s hair seemed to resemble grass to her. It was annoying, to say the least, to be awoken by the slobber of his only travelling companion dripping down his face, and Makoto wished he had traded the camel in for a donkey when he had the chance. It wouldn’t matter that camels in the long run were more durable when Makoto had no more hair left to satisfy his ride every morning. 

Well, if I had less hair, maybe it wouldn’t be so damn hot, he thought. Sand was everywhere - in between his toes, in his mouth, down his shirt… Makoto couldn’t remember the last time he had been truly free of the itchy sensation of sand. He groaned and sat up, startling his camel. Scowling, he touched a fingertip to the gooey saliva coating his hair. The ends were uneven and spiked. I needed a trim, anyway. No immediate harm done. 

“Well, let’s hit it, before the sun comes up.” Makoto said with a sigh, forcing himself to his feet. He grimaced at the tight dryness of his throat. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the dusty air taking up his mouth. Growling, he shuffled over to his pack and fished around, before scooping out his water-pouch. Only a couple swallows were left, and they slid down his throat like the ambrosia of gods, tasting as pure and as sweet as honey traded from Europe. He exhaled in satisfaction and wiped his mouth. His camel watched him, batting her long, thick eyelashes sleepily. Makoto loaded her up, determined to beat the sun on their last day of travel, and mounted. 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve been home.” He spoke absently, into the quiet of the desert. The sky was a light indigo, and the white light of the sun over the dunes was beginning to peek through. Makoto smiled. “I’m so anxious to see Ran and Ren.” 

His camel bellowed in reply, her ear flicking at the flies around her smelly head. Makoto wrinkled his nose. We both probably reek. Ugh, I can’t wait to have a bath. To be clean, and wet for the first time in moons… Just the thought is like a lullaby. 

He closed his eyes and sighed into the dusty, morning air of the desert.   
______

The city of Iwatobi was something Makoto, or anyone else, wouldn’t forget easily. 

It was small, granted, but utterly elegant, with a cheerful air in the streets and bazaars that was only flattened by the roar of a sandstorm every moon or so. After all of his travels to far off lands, Iwatobi was a gulp of clean water in the golden hell of the desert. 

He was greeted at the white walls surrounding the city by an old friend, Rei, a guard that was usually posted at the palace of the sultan. His spectacled, violet eyes, as brilliant as some of the most beautiful flowers Makoto had ever witnessed, widened when they recognized his face. A broad grin broke the usually thoughtful pout. 

“Makoto! Is that you?” he called as Makoto descended from his last dune. Makoto couldn’t help a relieved laugh. I’ve forgotten the beauty of another human’s voice! he thought.

“Rei, how are you?” he said. The two young men clasped hands and brought each other into a hearty embrace. “I’m surprised you’re out here. You were positioned at the palace when I left last.” 

“Oh, this is just temporary, fortunately.” Rei said, “I’ll be thankful to return to the shade of the sultan’s trees by the end of this moon.” 

“That’s good to hear. How is everyone?” 

“Nagisa’s doing well! He and his sisters become more talented dancers by the day.” A new shade of pink rose to Rei’s tanned face. “We’ve been seeing a lot of each other, recently. We… both really missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” Makoto beamed. “What about Haru?” 

“Still off on his journey, being ‘free.’” Rei reported with a knowing sigh, “He sent us a letter a couple days ago, though. He says he’ll be back as soon as a fortnight, so you’ll get to see him before you leave for your next trading route.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Makoto said. It was a struggle not to let his mind wander to fond childhood memories between the four of them and the sultan. It’s been years since I thought of that… Makoto, Nagisa, Haru, and Rei had always been friends, but there was one thing they all had in common - the sultan. As a young prince, the sultan had been very lonely, so the currently reigning sultan had ordered for four boys of the prince’s age to be brought to the castle to entertain his son. The four young men, now grown and busy with their occupations, still carried little secrets and knowledge of the sultan that no one else in Iwatobi could ever know. 

“My shift ends later tonight. If you’re up for it, Nagisa and I should treat you to a drink. You must have a lot of stories to tell us.” Rei said, smiling. 

“Not really,” Makoto laughed, “Unless you want to hear about herb-trading.” 

“Of course we do! Any news from beyond these dunes is a treasure in itself,” Rei said, adjusting his spectacles, “Go home and rest. You must be exhausted. But we’ll be at the tavern, in case you have the energy to deal with us.” 

“Don’t be silly, of course I’ll be there.” Makoto shoved Rei’s shoulder playfully, a gesture that Rei would not normally allow from other people. But he just smiled shyly and opened the gate for Makoto to pass through. Makoto led his camel forward, leaning back to wave at Rei. “See you later tonight!” 

Walking down the sandy streets to his parents’ healing store was like walking through a dream. Makoto recognized faces that he had forgotten about, and faces that his mind had wandered to on his journey. Smiles and greetings were exchanged, and the warmth of home flooded Makoto’s chest. He had to suppress a kick in his step as he rounded the last turn in the maze of shops, stands, and tents. 

“Makoto, Makoto!” Two excited voices, deeper than he remembered, greeted him immediately. He was nearly knocked over by the force of his siblings’ embrace. A wide smile spread across his face as he looked down into the bright gaze of his younger brother and sister. 

Tears were brimming in their eyes as they clung to Makoto’s waist. Their words mingled together in a tsunami of information that made Makoto’s ears pound. “Why thought you were never coming back! What did you see? Where did you go? Did you bring us anything? Don’t ever leave us again!”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down.” Makoto laughed and patted their heads. “I’ll answer all your questions as soon as I get a proper drink and a proper seat.” 

“I’ll get it for him!” both twins piped, scrambling over each other to fetch water. Makoto smiled wide. They’re older, but not much else has changed when it comes to Ran and Ren, he thought fondly. 

“Makoto.” His mother’s soft greeting startled him, and he found himself embraced in the arms he’d known his whole life. Tears forced their way to his eyes as he hugged her back tightly. He buried his face in her chestnut hair and sighed. “Welcome home, my darling.” 

“Son! You’re back early.” His father clapped him on the back. Makoto laughed, a few tears falling down his cheeks as he clutched at his father. The familiar, comforting smell of dried herbs and sweat overcame him. When he pulled away, his father was grinning from ear to ear. “You’ll have to tell us everything about your journey.” 

“All in good time, my love,” Makoto’s mother said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm. She beamed up at Makoto with shining green eyes like her son’s. “Let Makoto rest.”   
_______

Makoto retired that night cleaner and happier than he had been in moons. After a cold bath and a night catching up with some of his dearest friends, walking the streets of the only place he’d ever called home, it was almost a shame to lay down and close his eyes. 

The only thing that would make the cool night better would be seeing Haru, or the sultan. 

Makoto sighed. No. I won’t think about them before I fall asleep, or else I’ll have sad dreams filled with missing them. He shut his eyes tight and prayed to the stars above to send him good dreams and protection for the moons to come. 

But, even still, Haru’s blue eyes and Rin’s crimson hair danced behind his eyelids as he drifted off.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, a messenger with silver hair was sent to the Tachibana’s store. 

“The sultan is requesting you,” the messenger boy reported. He held out a clean, crisp roll of paper with the shining red crest of the sultan. Makoto watched, jaw slack, as his father accepted the letter and broke it open as if it were nothing. 

“The sultan?” Makoto whispered to his mother, momentarily putting down his basket of reeds, “Since when does the sultan request Father?” 

“Your father has become known throughout Iwatobi for his healing skills,” his mother replied, “A couple moons ago, the sultan began sending for him to come treat one of his most trusted advisors and generals. The general was wounded, and hasn’t been able to fully recover. When no other healers could help, the sultan turned to your father.” She shrugged. “Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing well, because the sultan continues to request him.”

“Wow,” Makoto breathed. His father turned to him after reading the letter, and beckoned him forward with a tilt of his head. Makoto approached cautiously. He eyed the messenger, taking in his expensive-looking clothing, trimmed, silver hair, and bright blue eyes. Truly the servant of royalty. 

“Makoto, come with me to the sultan’s palace,” Makoto’s father said. He beamed and clapped Makoto on the shoulder. “You’re as good a healer as I am, and the sultan will be pleased to have twice the hands helping.” 

Makoto’s face flushed in surprise. “R-really? You’d let me come? To the sultan’s palace?”

“It’s not like it’s your first time.”

“That was different! I was no more than a child!” Makoto wrung his hands. “What if I mess it up?” 

“You won’t,” his father assured him, “I trust you, Makoto. C’mon, gather your best herbs. We’re going to the sultan’s palace.”

_________

The pearly walls of the palace shone like the sheen of moonlight on water. Makoto couldn’t stop staring - he’d seen many palaces on his travels, and had walked these halls before when he was a child, but being here now was like being bowled over by a wave of finery and awe. 

He and his father were lead through the palace by guards dressed in fine silks, smooth, glassy swords at their belts. Makoto found himself thinking of Rei. He wished that he was here instead. Makoto was sure he wouldn’t feel so intimidated if a friend was at his side. He had no idea what to expect from the wounded general. How wounded was he? Badly, he assumed, if Makoto’s father had to keep returning for moons. And what of the sultan? How would he react upon meeting his old childhood friend? Did he even remember Makoto? Surely a sultan had better things to do than reminisce about past playmates. 

“This way,” one of the guards retorted. He swung open a pair of grand golden doors, and the scent of frankincense, fruit, and cleanliness hit Makoto as he was engulfed in rich orange light. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he stood before a wide bedroom draped in silk and velvet. Intricate rugs decorated the floor. Many flickering lamps hung from the ceiling, supplying light. In the middle of the room stood a comfortable-looking seat, with old, silver-haired advisors clustered around it. 

Perched atop the seat were two young men. Makoto caught his breath as he recognized the crimson hair of the sultan, Rin. His clothes shone as if they emanated light themselves, and gaudy, shimmering bracelets coated his wrists and biceps. His amber eyes locked on Makoto as they entered, and Makoto could’ve sworn he saw recognition flash in those jeweled depths. 

The sultan stood. Makoto and his father crouched before him on their knees. The sultan sighed and waved his hand dismissively. 

“Enough of this. I tire of all of these formalities every time we meet, Tachibana,” he said, his voice curling like that of a pampered cat’s purr. 

“My son and I only wish to show you our reverence, your majesty,” Makoto’s father replied. He and Makoto straightened, and Makoto had to force himself not to flinch under the sultan’s gaze. 

“Your son,” he echoed. 

“Yes. This is Makoto. He has just returned from a long journey, and is just a skilled healer as I am, your Majesty,” Makoto’s father reported. The sultan pursed his lips and tilted his head. 

“I know you, Makoto. I believe we were childhood friends, once upon a time.” 

“Y-yes, Sire,” Makoto flinched at his stutter, “Your father had me and a few others brought to the palace to keep you company.” 

“That’s right.” The sultan nodded. He stared at nothing, seeming to recall old memories, before his gaze snapped back onto Makoto and his father once again. “Well, I trust your father when he says you’re a capable healer. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to see a familiar face coming to take care of my friend and most trusted general. Do me well, Makoto.” A sharp smile spread across his face. “It was nice to see you again.” 

“You as well, Sire.” Makoto dipped into a bow. Rin motioned for his advisors to leave with them, and, in a flurry of cloaks and finery, Makoto and his father were alone with the young man sitting on the cushion. The doors shut with a deafening thud behind the sultan. The air rang with the sound for a moment, before the room fell silent. 

“Hello again, General Yamazaki,” his father broke the silence. He dropped his bag and moved to the young man’s side at his right shoulder. “Disrobe, please.” 

“Sousuke is fine, Tachibana,” the young man sighed, as he slid off his cloak, “I keep telling you. A man who continues to listen to my complaining and whining deserves to call me by my first name.” 

“I will address a general the proper way, General Yamazaki,” Makoto’s father replied shortly. He motioned Makoto over with a tilt of his head. “Come, Makoto. I’ll show you how I’ve been dressing the shoulder.” 

“Right,” Makoto mumbled. He eased his way to sit beside his father, and tried to pay attention. But paying attention is proven difficult when sitting beside the most beautiful young man that Makoto had ever laid his eyes on. 

The general was built, with broad shoulders and toned arms, the body of a soldier. He was much younger than Makoto had anticipated, and looked about Makoto’s own age. His skin, a rich caramel from a life in the sun, felt soft at Makoto’s touch, as he applied the dressing his father gave him on the general’s inflamed shoulder. 

And those eyes… They were blue, but not like Haru’s. Makoto wasn’t even sure he could call them blue. They were the color of the stone turquoise that Makoto had seen many times in trading markets and bazaars. They were the color of the shallow pool of an oasis, with the emerald-green palm fronds of a nearby tree casting a reflection, mixing into one splendid mix of teal. Those eyes watched him lazily, but there was an undeniable light in them that made Makoto’s stomach churn. 

“Makoto, the dressing is dripping.” His father’s gentle scolding snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. He muttered an apology, heat rushing to his cheeks, and quickly grabbed a towel to mop up the green paste that oozed down the general’s shoulder blade. When he straightened, Makoto expected an irritated look from the general, but those shockingly bright eyes were calm, and a tiny smile made a dimple in the general’s cheek. Makoto felt his ears redden still. 

“This is the son you won’t shut up about?” the general asked Makoto’s father. Makoto’s father nodded and regarded his son proudly. 

“Yes. He’s a magnificent healer, but you’ll have to excuse him. He’s very nervous.” 

“It’s understandable. No harm done,” the general watched Makoto carefully, making Makoto’s spine prickle. He tried to focus on applying pressure to the shoulder and guiding the general’s arm to test its movability. “Your son’s eyes are not like yours. They’re very green.” 

“Indeed, he has his mother’s eyes. A good thing, as well. Green eyes are much more attractive than my dull brown ones.” 

“A handsome face like your son’s would make any eyes look attractive, Tachibana.” The general’s smile widened, and Makoto’s father laughed heartily. Makoto swallowed. A white anger replaced his embarrassment. He’s teasing me on purpose! Makoto realized, Is he seeing how red he can make my face? Am I some form of petty entertainment? Makoto bent his mouth in a frown and tried to swallow his blush. If that’s the case, then he’s poorly mistaken.

“Hold still,” he ordered quietly, and, before the general could react, pulled his arm hard against his side. The release of tension in the muscles caused a loud cracking sound, and the general let out a very unmanly yelp of surprise. Makoto’s father laughed louder. He threw his head back and slapped his knees. Makoto allowed himself a triumphant smile as he met the general’s irritated glare. “I appreciate your flattery, General Yamazaki, but a man of your position has no point in going around throwing away compliments. You have a reputation to uphold, after all.” 

The general blinked, obviously taken aback. A grin tugged at his lips. “That’s very sensible of you, Tachibana Makoto,” he said, “And your father is right. My shoulder is feeling better already, if not a little sore from that surprise attack.” His deep, smooth voice took on the hitch of challenge. “Would you mind if I requested you again?” 

“As long as you hold still. We’re not finished yet.” Makoto turned away so that the general wouldn’t catch the small, shy smile that rested on his mouth. He put on a determined air and turned to his father. “Father, please pull yourself together. The sultan’s counting on us to take care of this man.”  
______


	3. Chapter 3

When Makoto returned to the palace a week later, he came alone. His father had excused himself, claiming that he was busy with the shop and couldn’t come, but a knowing glint in his eyes made Makoto question his motives for sending his son by himself.

Nagisa and Rei had been ecstatic when Makoto had told them about his encounter with the general. They demanded every detail. Makoto answered all of the questions he could, but most of them were far-fetched or embarrassed him to no end. He had decided not to tell them that he was returning until they had calmed down a bit. 

“Welcome back, Tachibana,” the sultan greeted Makoto upon his arrival. He cocked an angular eyebrow. “You came alone?” 

“Yes, Sire. My father was busy, so he sent me in his place,” Makoto replied, dipping in a bow. 

“Fair enough. From what Sousuke - er, I mean, General Yamazaki, told me, he was very satisfied with your care,” the sultan said. He rubbed his chin and looked Makoto up and down. “You can expect payment after the healing session.” 

“Yes, Sire.” Makoto bowed again. He remained still as the sultan moved past him, the scent of expensive perfume and herbs sweeping over him. The door of the general’s chambers closed, and Makoto was left alone again with General Yamazaki. The general sat cross-legged on the same cushion as before. His silk robes hung across his broad, muscled shoulders loosely. Makoto swallowed and placed his bag of herbs beside him. He dipped his head. “Hello, again, General Yamazaki.” 

“You came alone,” the general observed. Makoto tried to pretend like he didn’t hear the interest in the young man’s voice. “Is your father ill?” 

“He’s fine, just busy with the rush of the week. It honors our family that you ask.” Makoto spoke shortly and blankly, careful not to let his nervousness show. He met the general’s bright gaze. “Disrobe, please. I would have figured that you would know to do that beforehand, by now.” 

“I do,” the general replied with a smirk. His muscles shifted and rippled as he slid off his robes. Makoto swallowed and prayed that his cheeks weren’t turning pink. He coughed into his hand. 

“You’re not stressing the shoulder, are you?” he asked, focusing on taking out the collection of herbs he had prepared. 

“I train every day with my soldiers.” 

Makoto snapped his head up and scowled at the general. “Are you serious?” 

“Um, yes?” General Yamazaki blinked, “So?” 

“No wonder you keep injuring yourself! Honestly, are you thick?” Makoto’s politeness faded away and was replaced by frustration and worry. He hurried to the general’s side and extended his arm to test it. “If you continue to stress the muscles, the shoulder will never recover, and you’ll remain crippled!” 

“How was I supposed to know?” General Yamazaki’s features hardened. Makoto would have probably been intimidated to no end if he wasn’t so frustrated with the general. 

“Even a child would know that. It’s common sense.” Makoto sighed. “Didn’t my father warn you?” 

“He may have mentioned…” 

“And you ignored him?” 

“Look, I have duties,” the general snapped, “Duties to the sultan, and to the city. If I cannot deliver, than I am useless as a general.” 

“That’s not true. The sultan has obvious respect for you. Besides, if you continue like you are now, you’ll be terminated as a general for sure,” Makoto scolded him. General Yamazaki glanced away with a firm pout. He’s like a child, Makoto thought, momentarily amused by the prideful nature of this high-ranked man. This was the man that held the city’s military power in his hands? He sighed. 

“General, please look at me,” Makoto said, softly and sternly. General Yamazaki hesitated, but gave in and met his gaze. Makoto frowned in determination, summoning the glare that his mother had used many a time when he was little. “Promise me you’ll rest your shoulder.” 

“I have duties-” 

“I don’t care. You can kiss your occupation goodbye if you don’t do as I say.” 

The two young men glared at each other, and the air seemed to crackle with tension. Finally, after a few proud moments, the general sighed and flashed Makoto an amused smirk that sent lightning up Makoto’s spine. “You really are something, Tachibana. I don’t think I’ve ever been bossed around by someone of your status, before.” 

“It’s my job.” Makoto shrugged and smiled at the general innocently. 

“Fine. I’ll try to rest,” General Yamazaki gave in. He flexed his wounded, inflamed shoulder and winced. “If that’s what it takes for it to heal, than putting aside my duties for a time is worth it.” 

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said,” Makoto replied, laughing. He moved closer to the general’s side and dabbed the green paste onto the heated red skin. He felt his cheeks flush slightly as the general watched him with those intelligent, turquoise eyes. He cleared his throat. “So, you and the sultan are close, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. We’ve been friends since we were toddlers,” General Yamazaki looked away and studied the velvet drapes. “There was a time, however, when I was taken to another city by my family. We went across the desert to the kingdom of my uncle, who was in dire need of my father’s advisement at the time. I only returned a few years ago, and was recruited by Rin to work under him as his faithful general. I’ve been working and training his soldiers ever since then, and the city has never been so protected and organized.” The general’s spine straightened with pride. Makoto gave a small smile. 

“That’s probably why we never met,” Makoto replied, “N-not that we would under normal circumstances, but, believe it or not, the sultan and I were close as children. A couple of other boys and I were taken to the palace to act as his playmates.” Makoto’s mind returned to Haru, and the familiar feeling of missing his best friend returned to him. He shook it away as best he could. 

“Yes, I know. The sultan has mentioned you several times,” the general replied. Makoto’s fingers stiffened against the other man’s shoulder. 

“He has?” 

“He has. No matter his prideful airs, you and the other boys are very close to him. He speaks of you almost to an annoying extent.” Those bright eyes flashed upward to meet Makoto’s. “I am thankful. Even though you didn’t mean it, you and the others gave Rin strength. Just thinking about you helps him.” 

“I… didn’t know that,” Makoto mumbled, surprise taking over him. He furrowed his eyebrows. “I hope he knows that he was very influential in our lives, as well. My friends and I still talk about him.” 

“He’d be pleased to know that, I’m sure.” The general smiled, and Makoto felt warmth trickle through his chest at the sight of that smile. The two sat in comfortable silence as Makoto worked. He finished applying the ointment, and moved to face the general as he tested and massaged the shoulder. The general watched him with a soft gaze, and Makoto felt his ears redden beneath his hair. 

“Does that hurt?” Makoto asked, pressing his palm against the base of the shoulder. 

“Yes. It stings like an arrow wound,” the general replied. His voice was gruff with pain. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you some dressing.” Makoto rustled through his bag, before taking out a bottle and showing it to the general. “This is made of basil, ginger, and turmeric. It works as a painkiller and against infection. Apply it whenever you feel discomfort.” 

“I will,” the general took it delicately with two fingers, his skin brushing Makoto’s. Makoto stiffened as the other man leaned forward, close enough for their noses to brush. When he spoke, his voice was a husky whisper. “You are very beautiful, Tachibana.” 

“E-eh…” Makoto jerked away, his face flushing and his heart pressing against his ribs. He covered his eyes with his hands and turned away. “Y-you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s what I think,” General Yamazaki leaned back. He observed Makoto with pursed lips. Makoto shot him a glare. 

“It’s selfish to just...just… force your opinions on others like that!” Makoto snapped, his voice squeaking, “I’m not here for your entertainment!” 

“I never said you were.” General Yamazaki’s stony expression took on a flash of hurt. “I only wished to compliment you. Is it against the city law to compliment someone these days?” 

“No… I just, it’s infuriating when you say those things. It’s embarrassing.” Makoto stared at his hands in frustration. Why would this general understand? He was rich, prideful, and respected. What was the point in trying to explain Makoto’s humiliation to him. But, even so, Makoto was overcome with warmth and butterflies in his stomach. His whole body felt like it could lift up and float through the desert night. 

“I’m sorry.” General Yamazaki’s apology took him by surprise. Makoto glanced up. The general rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, his own cheeks flushing slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I thought… I thought you’d be flattered.” 

Makoto sighed. He shifted to sit on his heels. “I am, I suppose,” he confessed, “Thank you.” 

“Y-your welcome.” The general was obviously confused by the conversation. He let out a deep laugh. “You are very different from the servants in the palace.” 

Makoto cocked an eyebrow. “Do you usually flatter servants until they turn red? That’s a little cruel, isn’t it?” he asked. 

“I never thought of it that way. I suppose I owe Rin’s entire staff an apology.” General Yamazaki laughed heartily, a laugh that made Makoto feel as if he were being dunked in cool, sweet water after days in the gleaming desert. He blinked at the general, overcome by his sheer beauty. The way he bared his white teeth, squinted his eyes, and crinkled his nose when he laughed was like an arrow through Makoto’s heart. 

“You make me laugh, Tachibana Makoto.” General Yamazaki wiped a stray tear from his eye. He flashed Makoto a wide smile, a smile that Makoto had never seen before on that stony face. “And you’re more complicated than the other peasants. I’d like to know you better.” 

“Y-yeah?” The butterflies in Makoto’s stomach fluttered madly. 

“Yes. Maybe I’ll continue stressing my shoulder so you’ll continue to visit me.”

“Don’t even joke about that, General Yamazaki.” Makoto jabbed a finger in the general’s face. 

“Sorry. And I’d like it much better if you’d just call me Sousuke,” The general replied. 

Makoto hesitated. He examined the general and his calm, beseeching gaze. His insides seemed to knot and unknot as he met those bright eyes. “I suppose, if that’s what you want… Sousuke.” The feeling of the name on his tongue was sweet and unnatural.

But the smirk that the general flashed him made it suddenly feel like the most natural thing in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

“Tell me a story.” Sousuke put a hand over Makoto’s, pausing his reach for more gauze. Makoto met the general’s gaze. The raven-haired soldier was stretched across the cushion like a cat, watching Makoto with half-closed, lazy eyes. The golden and silver bands around his wrists clacked against each other as he shifted. Makoto blinked, the words Sousuke had uttered lost to him as he took in the chiselled face before him. 

“Makoto?” Sousuke cocked an eyebrow. He snapped his fingers in front of Makoto’s eyes, causing Makoto to blink. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” Makoto jerked his hand away from Sousuke’s. 

“I’m bored. Your visits are always the same, Makoto- you come and lecture me about stressing my shoulder, then remain silent as you fiddle with plants. Then I say something and you turn all pink and lecture me again.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “So, tell me a story.” 

“A story?” 

“You’ve travelled the world, Makoto.” 

“So have you.” Makoto laughed. “You grew up in a far off kingdom.” 

“I’ve experienced the world, but not like you. You’ve seen things that I will never see.” 

“Ah, how you continue to remind me of my life of poverty. Utterly charming, General Yamazaki.” Makoto rolled his eyes and turned back to rolling the gauze around his fingers. 

“You’re snappier than usual. Is something wrong?” Sousuke shifted closer, his tan, muscled shoulders bunching with the movement. 

“It’s… Nothing.” Makoto shook his head and turned away. It had been another week since Makoto had first come alone, and he’d visited two other times between then and now. At this point, the sultan and Makoto had engaged in polite, friendly conversations about their past, (Makoto showing the appropriate courtesy, of course,) and Makoto had an inkling that the sultan knew something that he didn’t about General Sousuke’s constant requesting of him. 

Sousuke was very different around Makoto. In front of the sultan’s advisors, guards, and servants, he was cold and calculating. But with Makoto, Sousuke suddenly became a pampered, snarky boy who had a fond interest in making Makoto blush and a smile that could light up the darkest Arabian night.

Despite his growing liking for the general, Makoto wasn’t sure if he could trust the Sousuke with the actual thoughts on his mind. 

“Makoto, tell me what’s going on,” Sousuke said, more insistently. He touched Makoto’s elbow and trailed his fingers down his arm. Shivers went up Makoto’s spine, and he quickly swatted Sousuke’s hand away. He met those turquoise depths and sighed. 

“You really want to know what I’m thinking about?” he asked, “You really want to listen to the ramblings of a peasant?” 

“You know I don’t think of you like that.” Sousuke scowled. His deep voice rang with irritation. “And yes, I do. We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m not incredibly familiar with friendship, but, from what I gather, it’s natural to actually talk about something besides plants and bad shoulders.” 

Makoto sighed. He gave Sousuke a small smile. “Well, if you really want to know, my best friend is returning tonight. I haven’t seen him in years, and I’m… Anxious.” Haru’s bright blue eyes shone intensely in the back of Makoto’s mind. 

“Is this one of Rin’s friends, as well?” Sousuke asked. 

“Yes. Haru was probably the sultan’s closest friend. They’ve always had a bond that I couldn’t understand.” Makoto smiled and shook his head. “It’s strange, but I always thought…” 

“What?” Sousuke tilted his head. 

“W-well, I always figured they loved each other. I’ve never seen two people who sparked energy in each other like Haru and… Rin.” Makoto said the sultan’s name with hesitance, immediately feeling guilty for using the sultan’s first name. Sousuke didn’t seemed bothered. 

“I’ve never known Rin to love anyone,” he shrugged, “Except for his sister, which is strictly platonic, obviously. The princess and I have been the only constants in Rin’s life, as far as I’m aware.” 

“I don’t know. It was a long time ago.” Makoto shrugged. “Forget I said anything.”

“So, that’s all that’s on your mind? Your friend coming back? Isn’t that a good thing?” 

“It is, but I don’t know what it’s going to be like,” Makoto said, “It’s been so long, and Haru’s probably had a lot of incredible experiences. He left to be free, and who knows if he found his dream or not.” Makoto smiled sadly at his hands. “I hope he did.” 

“You really care about him,” Sousuke observed. Makoto blinked, taken by surprise, as usual, by the general’s bluntness. 

“Of course. I...I love him.” Makoto hadn’t realized the truth of the statement until he had said it outloud. Of course Makoto loved Haru. He’d always loved Haru. The real question, one that Makoto couldn’t answer himself, was if he loved Haru in a romantic way or a platonic way. 

“Hm.” Sousuke grunted. When Makoto looked back at him, an expression that Makoto couldn’t place had taken over the young man’s face. He glared at nothing with lowered eyebrows. 

“Are you alright? Is your shoulder hurting?” Makoto asked. 

“No, no. It’s fine.” Sousuke’s voice was hard, metallic. He had regained the persona he had around other people. Makoto lifted an eyebrow, perplexed. 

“You look troubled,” he said gently. 

“I’m not. I’m…happy for you.” Sousuke rubbed his mouth and sat up. “No wonder you’re anxious. Anyone would be anxious about the return of their fiance.” 

“Fiance?” Makoto echoed. A nervous laugh bubbled past his lips. “Who said anything about a fiance?”

“You… You just said you’re in love with this Haru man.” Sousuke said. 

“No I didn’t. I said I love Haru, not that I’m in love with him.” Heat sprang to Makoto’s cheeks. “T-there’s a difference! At least to normal people!” 

“Oh.” Sousuke’s own face flushed, and he crossed his arms and looked away with a scowl. “Ah. I see. Well, I apologize, in that case.” 

“Apology accepted.” Makoto hesitated, before flashing the general an uneasy smile. Sousuke returned the smile after a moment. He settled again into a relaxed position across the cushion and began playing with the tassels like a bored cat. Makoto sighed, happy with the return of his usual Sousuke. 

He turned back to the gauze, the familiar feeling of sunlight blossoming in his chest.   
\---

“I can’t believe Haru is coming back! This is so exciting!” Nagisa’s blonde curls, the color of the sand at noon, bounced around his face as he threw his arms around Makoto’s neck. Makoto stumbled under his friend’s weight and laughed. 

“Don’t strangle him, Nagisa!” Rei said, his spectacles slipping off his nose slightly. 

“I’m fine, Rei.” Makoto straightened as Nagisa’s grip loosened. He smiled down at his other friend. “We’re all excited, huh?”

“Yes…” Rei adjusted his glasses and glanced away. 

“Aw, don’t bother hiding it! You’re anxious, too!” Nagisa teased, pinching a strand of Rei’s hair. Rei glared at him, his cheeks flushing as Nagisa placed a kiss on his jaw.   
The three young men stood in the shade of the city walls, watching the rolling dunes for any sign of Haru and his camel. The night was cool and alight with stars. Moonlight turned the sand silver, and it looked like the wisps of a horse’s tail as the wind caught it on the tip of the dunes. It was a perfect night, if the wriggling anxiety in Makoto’s stomach wasn’t considered. He tried to think of good ways to greet his friend, after all this time, but came up short. 

“Look! There he is!” Nagisa jabbed a finger up at the crest of the highest dune, where the dark outline of a camel and a rider could just be seen. Makoto’s heart skipped a beat as the moonlight caught a flash of familiar blue eyes. 

“Haru!” Nagisa ran up the dune, closing the space in between him and Haru’s camel. Rei burst after him, his arms tensed with determination at his sides as he ran. Haru unmounted his ride and braced himself for the impact of Nagisa’s bear hug. The dancer’s excitement in embracing his old friend was enough to cause them both to topple over onto the sand. Makoto let out a breathy laugh as Rei crashed beside them to wrap his own arms around Haru. 

“You’re back! You’re really back!” Nagisa’s shouts rang through the night. Makoto swallowed, and forced himself to step forward. He approached the bundle of limbs, and his eyes locked with Haru’s bright, intelligent gaze. The gaze that had been haunting him for years. 

“Haru,” Makoto breathed. He smiled, and extended a hand to help his best friend up. Haru took it. Cool relief filled Makoto’s entire body. Tears sprung to his eyes as he hoisted Haru up and embraced him, clutching him tight. 

“Makoto.” Haru’s arms wrapped around Makoto’s ribs. Makoto could feel the shorter man smile into his neck. Makoto sniffed, unable to stop the hot tears that fell on Haru’s scarf. 

“You’re home. I’m… I’m glad,” Makoto managed. He pulled away and laughed. “I’m still the tallest, aren’t I? Part of me was hoping you’d catch up.” 

“It wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t tower over all of us,” Haru replied, in his quiet voice. Makoto laughed again, and pulled Haru in for another hug. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too, Makoto.” 

“We have so much to tell you! And you must have so much to tell us!” Nagisa bounced up and took Haru by the arm. His rosy eyes were alight with excitement. “I want to hear all about your journey! No excuses, got that? By the end of tonight, it’ll be like we experienced the journey ourselves!” 

“Maybe we should wait for the morning. Haru’s probably tired,” Rei pointed out. He looked at Haru with so much admiration that Makoto was impressed that Haru could hold his gaze. Then again, Rei had always admired Haru to a severe extent. 

“I am. But tomorrow.” Haru nodded. He pursed his lips before letting out a yawn. 

“Alright, but first thing! Don’t think you can work your way out of this one!” Nagisa chastised. He moved to hold the reigns of Haru’s camel, as they began their descent back to the city walls. “You’ll never believe how successful my family’s dancing has become! People say we could perform for gods! Not that I don’t agree, or anything. We’re very good. Definitely the best in Iwatobi. Maybe even the world! Who knows? You’ll have to tell us about all the dancers you’ve seen, so that we can determine if that’s true. You'll also have to tell me all about the other dancing styles! We've been wanting to incorporate some culture into our performances, you know, to catch the public's interest. Although it will probably be hard to pick up other dancing styles from somebody who can't dance. No offense, of course.” 

Makoto smiled at Nagisa’s blabbering. Not much had changed in the years the four young men had been apart. It was nice to be reassured of that, even if the reassurance came in the form of a tsunami of information.

“Oh! You’ll never believe what Makoto’s been doing!” Nagisa burst, “The sultan summoned him, and he’s been treating General Yamazaki for a couple weeks now! From what I understand, the general must be in love with him!” 

“Really.” Makoto flinched as Haru’s questioning eyes turned on him. He rubbed his neck and laughed nervously. 

“Nagisa’s exaggerating. That’s definitely not the case,” Makoto replied. 

“Yeah, right! Makoto hardly shuts up about him! And apparently he’s been talking with Rin, too!” 

“Nagisa, you really shouldn’t call the sultan by his first name!” Rei said. Nagisa just smiled and shrugged innocently, not bothering to fight back on the matter. 

“Rin?” Haru stopped in his tracks. Makoto stumbled to a stop, and looked back at him. Haru’s eyes swam with an emotion that he couldn’t quite place. 

“Haru? Are you alright?” Rei asked, his eyebrows quirking up. Haru shook his head, as if snapping out of a dream, and continued walking, watching his feet. Makoto exchanged a glance with Nagisa and Rei before following. 

Makoto’s own words returned back to him. ‘I’ve never seen two people who sparked such energy in each other as Haru and Rin.’ He felt a slight pang of jealousy, one that he hadn’t truly felt for years. He watched Haru’s back as they entered the city again. Memories resurfaced, of hot days in the sultan’s courtyard, playing silly games and laughing. Makoto remembered moments when Rin and Haru seemed to be so enraptured in each other’s gazes that it felt as if he were invisible, like he was alone in a world separate from theirs.   
Sousuke’s intense gaze resurfaced in Makoto’s mind suddenly, and he glanced up at the stars above the shimmering palace, wondering what the general of Iwatobi was doing. 

\---

Makoto spent the next day with Haru, Rei, and Nagisa. Haru, using as little words as possible, described his favorite places he had seen. He spoke of a winding rivers, glistening lakes and a glowing expansion of water that went on forever - The ocean. He talked of what the water felt like and tasted like in other places, and Nagisa, Rei, and Makoto listened in utter rapture. It had always been that if Haru thought something was worth saying, it was worth saying well. So his stories were like poetry to Makoto’s ears. By the end of the day, Haru’s words had made Makoto feel so parched he was sure he’d never be satisfied with water again. 

Nagisa treated them all to a free show. He seated them all and hurried off to get ready for the dance. By the time he appeared again, on stage and dressed in flowing pink silk, he danced as if the stars were beneath his feet. He was a colorful whirlwind of golden hair, coaxing and teasing the audience with incredible movements that filled the room. His sisters danced with him, each wearing a different variety of the pink satin. Makoto, Rei, and Haru cheered the loudest when the show was over, and Nagisa beamed at them with a smile that could stifle the sultan's army. 

Afterwards, over a beautiful dinner prepared by Haru himself, Rei told them all about the books he had read and the famous politicians he’d gotten glimpses of. His eyes were so alight with excitement that it was impossible to be bored, despite the topic of conversation. Makoto gobbled down the food like a starved man, showering Haru with compliments of his cooking skills. 

It wasn’t until well after midnight that Haru and Makoto walked home, through the abandoned streets of the bazaar. Nagisa and Rei had retired to their own homes, hands clasped and their shoulders brushing as they murmured playfully to each other. 

Makoto felt as if he could float up to keep the moon company. He’d never been so happy for a long, long time. He couldn’t remember why he’d been so nervous about Haru’s arrival. Nothing drastic had changed - Haru was still Makoto’s best friend, and Makoto still loved him. Although they walked in silence, it was comfortable, filled with feelings and emotions that the two young men didn’t have to voice. Makoto felt a peace within him that was undeniably beautiful. 

“Makoto.” Haru’s voice took Makoto by surprise. Makoto glanced down at him. 

“Yes?” 

“When… You’re summoned again, to the palace…” Haru began. He paused. “I was hoping if I could come with you.” 

Makoto stopped, and Haru stopped a couple paces ahead, looking back to him. “Why?” 

“I’d like to see Rin again,” Haru replied evenly. Makoto wasn’t surprised. He’d known the answer even before he had asked the question. Of course Haru wanted to see Rin. It was stupid to assume otherwise. Haru glanced away, his cheeks slightly darkening in the dim light. “You understand, don’t you? You understand what it’s like to come back after such a long time, what it’s like to feel like something isn’t finished yet.” 

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Makoto said softly. He looked down at his hands and smiled. “I just... didn’t realize Rin was what you needed to finish your journey to becoming free.” 

“I’ve travelled the world, Makoto, like you. I’ve seen it, and I’ve been free. It was wonderful, but Rin has always been the finish line. I need to see him again.” Haru’s voice was insistent, quiet. It was so familiar on Makoto’s ears. He thought again of those days, when Haru and Rin clashed with both affection and anger, like fire and ice. He could see them, together, as children, standing before the sultan’s massive tree that bloomed pink petals every year. 

“You’ll take me to him, won’t you?” Hau asked. The wind softly buffeted his raven hair, and it shown in the moonlight like spider silk. Makoto smiled at him. 

“Of course I will,” he whispered. 

“Thank you.” Haru’s shoulders relaxed. He looked up at Makoto with affection in his bright eyes. “I appreciate it.” 

“I know.” 

They began to walk again, and Makoto thought again of Sousuke.


	5. Chapter 5

The day that Haru accompanied Makoto to the palace, a sandstorm hit Iwatobi.

It came as quickly as all sandstorms do, like a slap across the face. The air outside was filled with swirling, biting sand and a heat that nearly suffocated anyone who took a step out of their homes. Makoto’s cheeks still stung from the harsh wind as he walked the familiar hall to Sousuke’s room. He lifted a numb hand to loosen the scarf tucked around his mouth. The air of the palace, clean and calm, washed over him like the gentle, soothing hand of his mother patting his hair. 

Haru walked beside him, his body rigid with tension. He glared at the guards escorting them. Makoto could tell from the sweat on their necks that they were well aware of Haru’s sharp eyes. Makoto felt a bit of pity for them… It wasn’t easy being a victim of that icy stare. 

One of the guards moved forward to open the door to Sousuke’s chamber, and Makoto was welcomed with the familiar scene of Rin and Sousuke talking on the cushion, surrounded by Rin’s advisors. Both young men looked up as they entered, and the sultan’s gaze immediately snapped on Haru. Haru tensed at Makoto’s side, and the room fell quiet. Sousuke’s gaze clashed with Makoto’s for a split moment, before flicking back to the scene before them. 

“Haru,” the sultan breathed. He stood, his hands curling into fists at his side. A strand of messy, crimson hair fell into his face. Multiple emotions flickered in his amber eyes.   
Rin,” Haru mumbled. Urgent hissing began among the sultan’s advisors at that, but the sultan remained unbothered at being addressed by his first name. He seemed frozen, looking Haru up and down and up again. Moments passed, and for a long time, all Makoto could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears. He could feel Sousuke watching him from the cushion, but didn’t meet his gaze. 

“Y-your majesty.” Makoto dipped into an awkward bow. He expected Haru to follow his example, but the raven-haired traveller remained standing, his gaze locked with Rin’s. A tense understanding seemed to ripple between the two men. Haru balanced on the balls of his feet, as if prepared to take off running. 

“You brought a guest.” Sousuke’s deep, cool voice broke the silence, and the sultan jolted at his side. He glanced down at Sousuke and back up to Haru, and then to Makoto, and back to Haru. 

“Yes, this is Nanase Haruka.” Makoto introduced Haru quietly. He glanced at Sousuke. The general was watching Haru as well, his glare unwavering. His jaw was set and his hands were clenched. 

“The friend you spoke of?” 

“Yes, General Yamazaki.” 

“Interesting.” Sousuke stood and set his shoulders back. He towered over everyone else in the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Haru as if he were the discarded meal of a dog. “You just returned from travelling, yes? Is it not considered rude to stare at your ruler, wherever you were last? Because that’s the only explanation I can come up with to excuse your disrespectful behavior.” 

“Sousuke,” Rin spoke for the first time, shooting Sousuke a sharp glare. Sousuke met im evenly, his mouth pursed in a determined scowl. 

“I came to see the Rin,” Haru said at Makoto’s side, (the advisors began to murmur scathingly again.) He took in Sousuke with narrowed eyes. “You are the proud general that Makoto is tending, aren’t you?” 

Sousuke stiffened. “Yes.” His turquoise gaze flickered to Makoto’s, and Makoto held it for a moment, unsure what to do. He hadn’t expected this amount of electricity to be flashing around the room when Rin and Haru met again. They’re all so dramatic… Makoto thought. He cleared his throat loudly, and set down his bag of herbs. The action turned everyone's’ attention on him. 

“I’ll ask you all to leave,” he said, thankful to the heavens above that his voice didn’t catch, “It’s time to do my job, now, and everyone is distracting General Yamazaki.” 

“Uh, right,” Rin mumbled. He motioned for his advisors to follow him out of the room, his gaze still locked on Haru’s. “Nanase Haruka, would you like to accompany me while your friend works?” 

“Yes.” Haru’s reply came with a short nod. He glanced at Makoto, before following Rin out of the room. The doors shut behind them, and Sousuke and Makoto were left alone. Makoto let out a relieved sigh and ran a hand through his sand-clotted hair. 

“That was… riveting,” he said, flashing Sousuke a smile. Sousuke’s shoulders relaxed beneath his robes, and he let his arms fall to his sides. He scowled at his feet. 

“I don’t like him,” he said. Makoto let out a breathy laugh. 

“Why not?” 

“He’s disrespectful and moody.” 

“You’re one to talk, General Yamazaki.” Makoto grinned and brought his bag closer across the floor. “Disrobe, please.” 

Sousuke grudgingly slid off his cloak, and Makoto looked away, less out of polite courtesy and more to avoid the hypnotizing movement of the general’s toned muscles. Sousuke sat again on the cushion, his back slumped and his expression hard. He watched Makoto with a lifted eyebrow. 

“You’re filthy,” he observed, “Is there a storm outside?” 

“Yes, unfortunately. It’s like being dragged across the silk road all over again. There’s sand everywhere.” Makoto sighed and shook his sleeve over his bag so that the grains wouldn’t fall on the expensive rugs. He was about to kneel, but Sousuke stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. Makoto flinched at his touch and met his eyes, praying the general couldn’t feel the ragged skip of his heart. 

“You’ll soil the carpet with all that sand,” Sousuke said. He stood, rivalling Makoto’s height with his own, and forcing Makoto to take a couple steps back to avoid inappropriate closeness. His fingers slid around Makoto’s wrist and he tugged him forward. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

“I have to dress your shoulder,” Makoto objected. 

“My shoulder is fine. I’m more concerned with you dirtying up the sultan’s palace with your filth.” 

“Wow, thanks.” 

“You know what I mean.” Sousuke led him through another door, one on the bedroom’s left flank, and held it open for Makoto to pass through. Makoto eyed him warily, before stepping forward. Sousuke shut the door behind them. 

“O-oh, stars,” Makoto breathed. This room glittered like freshly-fallen snow, every inch of it’s walls, floor, and ceiling tiled with shining marble. The air was cool and crisp, with the scent of flowery perfumes. A tub, sculpted out of marble itself, sat against the wall, big enough to fit Makoto’s whole family if they squeezed. A servant girl in white robes stood to the side, organizing hundreds of bottles and soaps and placing them neatly across a shelf. Soft, fluffy towels were stacked against the wall, almost up to the ceiling. It felt as if they’d taken a step into a room made of white sunlight.

Makoto, without a doubt, had never seen a room so clean. 

“You’re so cute.” Sousuke chuckled at his side, and leaned forward to close Makoto’s gaping mouth. He led Makoto forward with a secure hand on his back. A mischievous smile played across his face. “Disrobe, please.”

“W-what?” Makoto pulled away, his cheeks flushing. 

“Disrobe. You’re getting everything sandy, so I’m letting you clean yourself in my tub.” 

“I’m not here to take a bath! I’m here to fix the shoulder you keep injuring!” Makoto yelped. 

“Don’t be difficult. I’m just trying to be nice.” Sousuke lowered his eyebrows and pouted. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Makoto?” 

“That’s neither here nor there!” 

“Sure it is. C’mere, I’ll do it myself.” Sousuke’s hands inched up Makoto’s arms and began to slide off Makoto's course clothes. Makoto wanted to pull away. He wanted to scold Sousuke for being so inappropriate… But that marble tub did look welcoming.... And Makoto was filthy… 

He sighed. “Fine. But I’ll undress myself, thank you very much.” Makoto pushed Sousuke away, his cheeks flushing, and chose to ignore Sousuke’s triumphant smirk. He hesitated, before sliding off the top portion of his robes and letting them drop to the floor. The cool air soothed his irritated skin. He sighed, and stretched his arms over his head, before rotating his waist to loosen the tension. 

“Uh…” Sousuke clamped his mouth shut and turned away. Makoto blinked at him. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“No, no. I’ll… Have the servant girl begin bringing in the water.” He motioned for the servant girl, and she obediently began fiddling with a strange metal spout in the wall that spit out a constant stream of water. It splashed against the side and bottom of the tub and began to fill. The servant girl then began to load the water with different soaps that created rosey, pearly bubbles. Makoto watched her in great interest. He’d never seen water come out of a wall before, and hadn’t had a legitimate bath - back home, it was normal to merely wet a sponge and wash your body until it was somewhat cleaner than before. 

“Go ahead.” Sousuke smiled at Makoto and motioned to the bath. The girl stopped the tap and moved away, closing the door behind her. 

“Okay.” Makoto rested his hands on his belt, hesitating. Face pink with embarrassment, he glanced up at Sousuke. “Could you… turn away?” 

“Why?”

“Well, I’d rather you not see me completely…” Makoto trailed off and stared at his feet. 

“Ah. Fair enough.” Sousuke shrugged and turned his back on Makoto, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Makoto disrobed as fast as he could and slipped into the tub. The bubbles obscured most of his body, and he sighed, relaxing into the warm water. 

“You can turn around, now,” Makoto said. Sousuke did so. He blinked at Makoto, before a smile pulled at his lips. He approached the tub and crouched down at it’s side, his face dangerously close to Makoto’s. Makoto swallowed and watched the water. He prayed that his ears weren’t turning red, like they always did when he was flustered. 

“Will you be insulted if I say you look absolutely adorable?” Sousuke asked. He reached a hand up to smudge dirt from Makoto’s cheek. Makoto frowned at him. 

“General Yamazaki-” 

“Sousuke,” Sousuke corrected. Makoto sighed. 

“Fine. Sousuke, how am I supposed to know if you’re genuinely complimenting me or just teasing me? Because I can’t tell the difference most of the time.” 

“Can’t it be both?” Sousuke smirked. He pinched a strand of Makoto’s hair between his fingers and curled it around his nail. “Everything I’ve said to you has been completely genuine. I really do think you’re beautiful, Makoto, I just also like to see you turn pink. You’ll find that I’m very good at finding tactical advantages like this. I’m a general, after all.” Sousuke shrugged. Makoto sighed. 

“You’re hopeless,” he said, but gave the general a small smile. “But… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. Now, hold still.” Sousuke leaned back on his heels and selected a bottle filled with a green, milky substance. He popped open the cork and held the bottle over his hand. It oozed out onto his palm, and he smashed it gently between his hands and rubbed it into a filmy soap that coated his fingers. He leaned forward and curled his fingers into Makoto’s hair. 

“W-what are you doing?” Makoto asked. He stiffened at Sousuke’s touch, but didn’t move away. 

“It’s shampoo. To wash the sand out of your hair.” Sousuke’s voice was soft as he worked. He slicked Makoto’s hair back, spiked it, and massaged the shampoo in well. When he finished, he met Makoto’s eyes and laughed. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. You’re just… really cute with your hair slicked back.” 

Makoto dunked his head underneath the water before Sousuke could see the embarrassed panic on his face. He couldn’t help letting out an exhilarating burst of bubbles that danced against his cheeks. He tried not to think about the butterflies in his stomach, and instead focused on the feeling of the water and soap on his body, washing away the sand that had formed a thin shell around him. He sighed at the peaceful feeling of his hair waving with the gentle tug of the water. 

When he resurfaced for air, it was almost a shame to let go of the quiet embrace. Few times in Makoto’s life had he been held by the embrace of water, fully surrounded and clean. He wanted to enjoy it while he could. 

“You can take bathes here anytime you want, you know,” Sousuke said. Makoto blinked at him. He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it away from his forehead. 

“That’s… a very generous offer. Are you sure?”

“I like to see you enjoy something so much.” Sousuke shrugged. “You looked absolutely serene.” 

“Won’t the sultan be angry?” 

“No. He likes you. He told me himself to treat you well while you’re tending to me.” 

Disappointment fell in Makoto’s stomach like a stone. “So… You’re acting on the sultan’s orders.” 

“You know that’s not all it is.” Sousuke sighed. He reached out a tentative finger to trace the curve of Makoto’s cheek. Those intelligent, thoughtful eyes studied him closely, sending shivers up Makoto’s spine. The sudden urge to close the gap between them was sudden and overwhelming. 

“You’re eyes are…” Sousuke began. He paused, and obviously began to struggle to find the right words. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “They’re, uh, very green. Like a plant.” 

Makoto snorted. He covered his mouth with his hand to keep back a chortle. 

“Gee, thanks,” he managed through the chuckles he was trying to swallow. Sousuke turned pink and looked away. He scowled at the floor.

“I’m, uh, not very good at stuff like that.” He sent Makoto an exhausted smile. “At least I tried.” 

“That’s true,” Makoto agreed. 

The two young men stared at each other for a long time. Makoto felt as if his heart would give out soon if he didn’t do something. Something, to stop the distance, to calm the electricity flashing between them. Holding still was excruciating. He wanted to kiss Sousuke, to kiss his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, his lips… 

Realization of his own thoughts hit Makoto hard. He was suddenly aware of how close Sousuke was, and how utterly naked Makoto himself was, under all of the bubbles. This was ridiculous. He cleared his throat and coughed, pressing himself against the opposite side of the tub. Sousuke started at his sudden movement. 

“What?” 

“Uh, turn around, please. I’m getting out,” Makoto flattened his hair back against his forehead and avoided Sousuke’s eyes. Sousuke hesitated, obviously hurt, before obliging. Guilt writhed in Makoto’s stomach as he hoisted himself out and wrapped himself in a heavenly towel. He cleared his throat again. “I should really check on your shoulder, now.”

Sousuke met his gaze. Makoto fought to hold it. 

“Thank you, for the bath, I mean,” he said. 

“Of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They kiss. ;)

Haru didn’t return with Makoto that night. 

Makoto couldn’t say he was surprised. There were two possible scenarios that seemed equally likely. Either Haru and Rin became involved in a furious argument that led to Haru being thrown into the sultan’s prison, or… something else had happened. Makoto decided it was best not to dwell on the latter.

Makoto didn’t see Haru again until the morning of the next day. He didn’t pry and merely settled on welcoming him home and treating him to a drink. Haru’s gratitude was obvious. No words needed to be uttered for Makoto to understand that Haru wasn’t one for gossip or sharing. 

With Haru’s return to Iwatobi came the return of his family’s tavern. The enticing smell of Haru’s cooking seemed to take the entire city by storm, and Haru was constantly busy with customers scrambling over themselves to have a taste of the traveller’s food. Haru and his parents, despite the chaos, always had an area reserved for Makoto’s family. Makoto’s mother brought the twins often, and would bring back dinner for Makoto and his father as they worked through the evening with their patients. 

A week passed. A week, with no letters from the sultan to summon him to Sousuke’s side. Makoto wondered if he’d insulted the general. Or maybe his shoulder was just getting better. 

Whatever the case, Makoto found himself yearning to hear that deep, sturdy voice again. Sousuke frustrated him to no end, but Makoto had grown fond of him. More than fond…

The silver-haired messenger, (he introduced himself as Ai,) arrived the seventh day after Makoto had last seen Sousuke. He presented Makoto with a similar letter to the one he’d received every summoning before. Makoto took it gratefully, excitement tingling in the base of his back. He unfurled the letter, read the usual string of complicated words that called upon him as a healer, and furled it back up. 

“Do you know why I haven’t been summoned for so long?” he asked Ai. 

“General Yamazaki led his soldiers into battle a few days ago,” Ai replied, “There was a gang of thieves on the outskirts of the city and the general went himself to make sure they didn’t cross the wall. I’m surprised you didn’t hear.” 

“Wow. That’s…” Makoto began, but then quietly cursed. “Damn that idiot.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I told him not to stress his shoulder, and he goes off and volunteers to fight a horde of bandits? I have half a mind to damage his shoulder permanently myself.” Makoto scowled at the white palace that towered over the city. Ai blinked at him, perplexed and taken aback. 

“Um, okay…” 

“Sorry, sorry. He’s just… an ass.” Makoto sighed and flashed Ai an apologetic smile. “Thank you for delivering this to me. Again.” 

“Uh, no problem?” Ai laughed nervously.  
\---

Makoto strode down the palace corridors with a new determination. The guards that accompanied him had to jog to keep up, their swords clattering against their golden belts. Makoto’s own bag jostled against his back with each hard step. He had a clear image of what was going to happen: he’d storm into Sousuke’s room and demand an explanation. He promised himself he wouldn’t stand for any excuses, and had a clear consciousness about embarrassing that stupid general in front of the sultan and all of his wheezy advisers. There was no way Sousuke could worm his way out of this one, no matter how much he flashed that knee-weakening smile or flirted. 

The doors opened, and Makoto stormed in. He slowed, however, when he realized that the large room was empty, and much more dimly lit than usual. The room smelled of foreign chocolate and flowers, and candles were scattered against the walls, supplying a caramel, golden light. Flowers were strewn across the rugs and pillows, their many colors almost glowing in the light of the candles. Makoto let out a shallow gasp of confusion and awe. The doors shut behind him softly. 

“Makoto.” Sousuke’s deep voice caught Makoto’s attention. He looked to the cushion, where Sousuke was usually perched, but the raven-haired general wasn’t there. He was, however, seated upon the large, luxurious bed that was snuggled in the corner of the room. He watched Makoto with lowered eyelashes, his hands clasped over his lips. He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. Tingles traveled up and down Makoto’s spine at the speed of light. 

“Sousuke? What are you doing?” Makoto demanded, forcing his expression to be hard. He gulped and jabbed an accusing finger at him. “Y-You stressed your shoulder! You complete ass, you went behind my back and disobeyed what I said! Do you want to be a cripple?” 

“Makoto-” 

“No! No excuses! I knew you’d stress it at some point, I just didn’t realize you’d do it so soon! Don’t be an idiot, General Yamazaki! There are people counting on you, you stupid jackass!” 

“Makoto, call me Sousuke,” Sousuke replied calmly and slowly. He tilted his head and widened his smirk. “I understand your anger. I expected it. I didn’t, however, expect you to call me names.” 

Makoto scowled at him. “You still have to explain yourself. And what is all of this?” he demanded, throwing his arms up and gesturing to the candles and flowers. 

“Makoto, after much consideration, I have decided to woo you,” Sousuke said. Makoto dropped his arms and cocked an eyebrow. 

“Woo me?” he echoed. 

“Yes. Maybe you’re not familiar with the term.” 

“N-no, I’m familiar with it,” Makoto sighed and massaged his temples. He felt his cheeks flush, and was actually thankful for the dim lighting. “Sousuke, are you completely thick?” 

Sousuke brought his eyebrows together, hurt. “No. Why would you say that?” 

“Because!” Makoto couldn’t keep his voice from rising into a nervous screech, “I’m a healer! And you’re the general of the military of an entire city! And I’m not attracted to you, no matter what your huge ego tells you!” Makoto winced as the lie caught in his throat. Sousuke blinked. He’d heard it too. His eyes flashed with amusement, and an infuriating smirk played across his lips.

“Makoto, are you attracted to me?” Sousuke asked softly. He stood, and his robes pressed against his chest, outlining his muscled, broad torso. Makoto gulped. 

“N-No!”

“Yes you are,” Sousuke bared his teeth teasingly. He approached Makoto, the bands around his biceps and wrists flashing in the dim light. 

Makoto let out a nervous laugh as Sousuke’s breath touched his forehead. He folded his arms over his chest and spluttered, feeling his face turn a deep red. He flinched as Sousuke lifted a hand and pinched his chin, tilting his face up to meet his eyes. Makoto froze as he was locked into that bright stare. Sousuke blinked calmly, his long eyelashes brushing Makoto’s cheeks as he leaned forward, a smirk on his lips. 

Makoto’s heart pressed against his chest, as if on the edge of it’s seat. In the moments and the distance in between them, he felt as if he were being dunked beneath the scorching sand. He let out a ragged breath. It felt as if he was going to suffocate if he didn’t close the gap between them. 

He leaned forward, his lips brushing Sousuke’s for a moment, but Sousuke pulled away before their mouths could lock. Makoto stumbled against his chest and let out a small, confused mumble. His fingers vibrated with nervousness and anticipation. 

“This is hardly fair. I haven’t begun wooing you, yet,” Sousuke whispered. He brushed a thumb across Makoto's cheek. Makoto's stomach writhed at the tender touch. His heart was beating as quickly as a rabbit's. Anxiety that he would mess everything up surfaced inside of him and made his chest tighten nervously. 

“You’ve been flirting with me since the day we met. Isn’t that wooing?” Makoto replied, and anxiously leaned forward again, feeling as if he had to do something. Sousuke halted his mouth with a finger. He regarded Makoto calmly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he recognized how nervous he was. 

“It’s no fun like this. I’ve only just decided to woo you, and you're already practically throwing yourself at me.” 

“I'm not throwing myself at you,” Makoto mumbled around his finger. Embarrassment shot through him as Sousuke grinned down at him. 

"Yes you are. You came in as angry as a bull, and now you're begging for a kiss. You're too easy." 

"I-I am not!" Makoto scrunched his nose up and forced a scowl, something he wasn't naturally good at. Sousuke let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

"You're cute." 

"If you wanted a kiss, than why are you stalling? Who cares?"

“I do. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a very prideful man.” 

“Oh, I have,” Makoto replied. 

“Besides, it took me a long time to put this all together.” 

“When you say that, do you mean that you put it together, or that a servant put it together?” 

“That’s neither here nor there.” 

“It’s most definitely both here and there!” Makoto laughed and leaned back. Sousuke caught his waist to keep him from toppling over. He gave Makoto a small smile that warmed Makoto’s chest like the gentle sunlight of morning. Makoto returned it, his cheeks darkening. Responsibilities and common sense fought for his attention, but Sousuke’s cool eyes swamped them easily. Makoto sighed, and tried not to appear to nervous about being so close. “Well, if you want to woo me, or whatever, then do it. Since you obviously put so much effort into it."

Sousuke cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? Are you going to be insulted if I say you’re beautiful?” 

“No, as long as you’re not a jerk.” 

“Fair enough.” Sousuke took Makoto’s hand and lifted it to his lips. He gently kissed one of Makoto’s rings. “Let the wooing begin,” he purred. Makoto’s whole body tingled at his touch. He watched, his cheeks flushed, as Sousuke kissed each of his knuckles and the base of his hand. He extended Makoto’s arm and touched his lips to the inside of Makoto’s wrist. He grasped one of Makoto’s bracelets between his teeth and met Makoto’s gaze evenly. 

“S-so this is wooing,” Makoto mumbled, as Sousuke’s gentle lips travelled up to the crook of his arm. Sousuke paused at the inside of his elbow and straightened. He cupped Makoto’s cheek, and Makoto exhaled at his touch. His skin boiled beneath Sousuke’s fingers. 

“You are so beautiful,” Sousuke whispered, “Your smile is like staring into the purest realms of heaven. I know that if I look at it directly I’ll be blinded, but, unfortunately, I am addicted to your happiness.” Makoto’s heart skipped a beat. Sousuke pulled his lips back in a grin. “I’m good at this, aren’t I?”

“Did you actually come up with that?”

“...No. I got it from Rin, when he was rambling about Haru. He has such a romantic nature it’s almost pathetic, the poor fool. Just pretend like that it’s from me, though.”

“Well, it was sweet, but I have conflicted feelings about your source,” Makoto said, flushing. Sousuke laughed and rubbed his thumb along a couple freckles on Makoto’s cheek. He leaned forward to place a kiss on the tip of Makoto’s nose. His lips travelled upward, to the space between his eyebrows. Makoto felt his waist tugged closer, so their stomachs met. He breathed against Sousuke’s neck, his arms tentatively wrapping around his rib cage. 

“Are you wooed?” Sousuke asked against Makoto’s forehead.

“Shh, I’m enjoying this,” Makoto whispered, and he and Sousuke began to rock gently. 

“Unfortunately, if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m going to punch something,” Sousuke sighed. He lifted Makoto’s face to his own and placed their lips together. Makoto exhaled and hugged Sousuke tighter. 

To his surprise, Sousuke didn’t press him. The general seemed content in just holding their mouths together, sharing breaths, and swaying slightly. A beam of light blossomed in Makoto’s heart and spread to every corner of his body. He relished the feeling of Sousuke’s warm hands on his waist, and his lips on his own. 

Sousuke broke them apart, and Makoto felt as if half of himself had been ripped away. He sighed and leaned his forehead against Sousuke’s, their noses brushing and their breathes exchanging. Sousuke smiled and rubbed his fingers against the fabric of Makoto’s robes. 

“You taste of herbs and wind,” he said. Makoto beamed. He laughed, and wrapped his arms around Sousuke’s neck. Their lips met again. Makoto curled his fingers in that short, dark hair, and marvelled at how soft it was. Like the downy of a desert owl in Makoto’s hands. He decided against voicing these thoughts, knowing that Sousuke’s manly pride would be hurt. 

"I'm still mad at you," Makoto mumbled when he came up for breath. His cheeks and ears were flushed so deeply that Makoto felt as if they would burst. 

"Don't be mad. I barely did anything during the battle. And what I did do, I was careful to do with my good arm." 

"Still... I told you to rest. You should've listened to me," Makoto sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry." 

"Do you really mean it?" 

"...Yes. I'll try to avoid trouble, if that's what you really want." 

"Not just me. The sultan, too. People depend on you, I hope you know." Makoto sighed. He glanced up at Sousuke and met his eyes. 

"You worry, too much," Sousuke said softly, "I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself." 

"How can you say that, after volunteering to go into a battle that you could've avoided?" Makoto asked, bringing his eyebrows together. "I can't help but worry. My job is to worry." 

"Even about me? It wasn't that long ago that you were calling me names." 

"Sousuke, the sultan literally hired me to tend you and make sure you didn't get hurt. Of course I'm going to be mad about you not listening to me, when I have your best interests at heart. Even if it means you don't get to gallivant around, knocking people upside the head."

Sousuke laughed, his chest rumbling against Makoto's. "Is that what you think I do?" he asked. 

"W-well, you haven't exactly proved me wrong," Makoto said, smiling. Sousuke laughed again, his embrace tightening. 

"You're interesting, Makoto," he said, tilting his head, "Most of the time you're sweet and polite, but you surprise me sometimes." 

"How?"

"With your insistence. Your determination. You have a big heart, Makoto, and you'll push as hard as you need to for the people you care about. It's... very interesting." 

"W-wow, thanks. I guess..." Makoto felt his face redden and looked away. He cast Sousuke a shy smile, before allowing himself to be pulled in for a tender kiss. Makoto curled his fingers in Sousuke's hair again, sure that he had never felt anything so soft. 

“Are you going to woo me? I’d like to be wooed. I’ve never been wooed, before,” Sousuke said, when they parted again. Makoto opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, and sighed. 

“Maybe next time. I should go home, before my family starts worrying about me,” Makoto forced his arms away from Sousuke and stepped back. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine. Barely aching,” Sousuke shook Makoto’s question away. “Do you have to go?” 

“Yes. My mother is probably worried already,” Makoto said with a sigh. He met Sousuke’s gaze. “Are you really okay? I feel guilty, now. I mean, I was summoned to help you recover.” 

“Eh, this is good too.” Sousuke shrugged. He tilted his head to place a stray kiss on Makoto’s jaw. Shivers travelled up and down Makoto’s spine. 

“To be honest, I’m a little surprised you’re moving so slowly,” Makoto said with a nervous laugh. Sousuke blinked, before giving Makoto a small smile. 

“Would you like me to move faster?” he asked. Makoto flushed and turned away. 

“I-I’ll see you later.” 

“Can you come tomorrow?” 

“Don’t you think the sultan will be suspicious if you request me so much?” Makoto asked. Sousuke rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips.

“Honestly, Rin has no room to be suspicious. He’s too busy with all of his duties and Nanase. Besides, it’s none of his business.” 

“It sort of is. He’s the one that pays me, after all. Not that I deserve it, at the moment…” 

Sousuke sighed and took Makoto’s hands in his own. “I couldn’t care less.” 

“Mmm…” Makoto pursed his lips, guilt still probing for his attention. 

“You’re worried. Don’t be worried. You’re much cuter when you’re smiling.”

Makoto sighed. He gave Sousuke a small smile, and Sousuke returned it, practically glowing.

What have I gotten myself into? Makoto thought.


	7. Chapter 7

“Makoto?” Nagisa snapped his fingers in front of Makoto’s face, causing him to jump. The blonde dancer pouted up at him, leaning across the wooden counter of Makoto’s stand. “What’s up with you?” 

“H-huh?” Makoto shook his head, in hopes of clearing it. He blinked at Nagisa. “Sorry, what did you say? I must’ve gotten a little distracted.” 

“I was just saying that you look a little… moony.” Nagisa cocked an eyebrow. A wide smile created dimples in his cheeks. “Mako, are you in love…?” he cooed, leaning forward to boop Makoto’s nose. Makoto sighed and looked away. He tried to focus on sorting the glimmering bottles of herbs beneath his fingers, and not the heat in his face at the question. Nagisa waited for his reply with wide eyes. He still wore his dancer's uniform from the performance earlier that day, and his rich, silver and pink clothes stood out in the dry orange of the slums like a golden goblet in the burning sand. He certainly turned heads as people passed Makoto's shop, and Nagisa ignored them, used to having eyes on him. He watched Makoto in rapture, not reacting at all when an older woman passed and gently leaned out to touch his robes, before moving off again.  
“No, I’m not in love,” Makoto said, hoping that his face wasn’t turning completely red. 

“Yes, you are. I can tell. You’ve got that look that you get when you look at Haru. But, like, all the time,” Nagisa said. Makoto glanced up in alarm. 

“W-what?” he asked. I have a look? he thought in silent panic. 

“You know, the look. When your eyes get all sparkly.” Nagisa waved his hands for emphasis, the bands around his wrists clinking against each-other. “Rei looks at me like that all the time. It’s super cute. And Haru has that look whenever someone mentions Rin.” His rosy gaze, the color of a gentle dawn, took on a gleam of sympathy at that. Makoto flinched and quickly looked away. 

“So, are you going to tell me who you’re all moony over, or are you going to make me guess?” Nagisa trailed his fingers across the wood and watched as Makoto sorted shakily through remedies and herbs. “Is it a mystery person? You’re into guys, right? I mean, I could see you with a girl, but let’s be real. You’ve had a crush on Haru since we were tiny.” 

“U-uh…” Makoto let out a nervous laugh. Nagisa smiled mischievously at him.

“It’s that general you keep visiting, isn’t it?” he said, shaking a finger at Makoto. When Makoto didn’t reply, he laughed and clapped his hands together in excitement. “It is, isn’t it? Wow, Haru and Mako, catching the hearts of the most powerful people in Iwatobi! You could probably take over the kingdom, if you put your mind to it. I can see it now: Haru is the new sultan, and you’re the new general, after the tragic deaths of your lovers. Ah, your families would be so proud. And then you’d make me, Rei, and all of our children super rich and powerful.” 

“Sometimes I forget how dark you can be, Nagisa.” Makoto sighed. Nagisa smiled innocently, and Makoto would never believe a face like that would fantasize about the deaths of the two most powerful men in Iwatobi if he hadn't heard it himself. 

“You’re not denying that you’re in love with General Yamazaki,” Nagisa pointed out, fiddling with the shining, transparent veil that was swept across the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not in love with him,” Makoto said. 

“Have you kissed?” 

Makoto hesitated, glancing around, before giving Nagisa a tiny nod with warm cheeks. Nagisa’s grin widened, and he bounced on his heels in excitement. 

“Is he any good? What’s he like? Is he shorter than you? Makoto, please tell me that he’s not shorter than you. He has to be taller. If you dare tell me that he’s shorter, I’ll steal all of your parsley and give it to little kids.” 

“No, he’s taller than me,” Makoto admitted, his ears bright red. Nagisa smiled in satisfaction. He leaned on the palm of his hands, his elbows resting on the wood, as if Makoto were telling him a riveting fairytale. 

“What else?” 

“Uh, well, he’s... He’s really nice, once you get to know him, but he scared the crap out of me when we first met. He’s a hopeless flirt, as well.” Makoto felt the heat coming off of his face in waves. Nagisa leaned farther forward, eyes wide and questioning.

“Is he handsome?” 

“...Yes. Yes, he’s very beautiful,” Makoto admitted. He thought of Sousuke, of his bright eyes, like the hypnotizing water of a shallow oasis. He thought of his face and body, tan and broad and lean, rising and falling like the crests of the dunes in a sandstorm. He especially thought of the smile that he showed only to Makoto. teasing and considerate and confident. Makoto's heart squeezed.

“You can’t even begin to comprehend how happy I am for you.” Nagisa grabbed Makoto’s hand and held it tightly, his eyes alight. “I think this could be really good for you. Rei and I have both thought for a while now that you need somebody to remind you that you're special, too. You're so selfless all the time that you never appreciate yourself, Makoto, so somebody to look for you and take care of you is good, right?" His eyes brightened with that familiar, childish excitement. "Are you going to introduce him to your family? Ooh! You should bring him to one of my shows! We’d blow him away, I promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it, Nagisa, but I really don’t think-” 

“Does Haru know?” Nagisa suddenly interrupted him, his eyebrows lifting. Makoto flinched. 

“I...I don’t think so, but he might have an inkling.” Makoto shook his head. “Although, he’s been really busy lately, with the tavern and Rin…”

“You should tell him. He’s your best friend.”

“Yeah, I know,” Makoto sighed and massaged his temples. To be completely honest with himself, Makoto didn’t know what was happening with Haru. Outside of the palace they were as close as they’d ever been, walking the streets and lightly chatting, ( Mostly Makoto.) Haru seemed happy, if not exhausted from all of the work the tavern had him doing, and he didn’t treat Makoto any differently. He was still the same Haru - hopelessly addicted to quiet, water, and mackerel. But there was a whole other side of Haru that Makoto had yet to see. Inside the palace, Haru was unpredictable. He was much more focused on finding Rin than anything else. 

Makoto swallowed, reminding himself for what felt like the hundredth time that he should be happy for his friend. And Haru would be happy for him, if he knew about Sousuke. But… Would he? 

“Can I tell Rei?” Nagisa asked. Makoto blinked at the shining bottles before him, his hands clenched against the wood of their shelf. He looked at Nagisa and forced himself to absorb the question.

“Sure, I guess. But don’t tell anyone else,” Makoto said, shooting Nagisa a concerned look, “I still don’t really know what’s happening. I mean, if this goes wrong, and the general and I get in a fight, or something, who’s to say what Sou- Er, General Yamazaki, would do? There’s still so much I don’t know about him.” 

“Understood.” Nagisa’s gaze softened, and he clutched Makoto’s hand tightly. “Be careful, Mako. I don’t want you to have your heart broken, or for you to, like, be thrown in jail.”

Makoto smiled. “Thanks, Nagisa.”  
________

Makoto dabbed the purplish paste onto Sousuke’s shoulder, and paused when he hissed in pain. He studied Sousuke closely, eyebrows drawn together. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’m fine. It’s just a little cold,” Sousuke replied, quirking the corner of his mouth up in reassurance. Makoto hesitated before turning back to continue massaging the paste on the irritated skin. He sighed. Sousuke’s shoulder was making progress, but not quickly enough. Makoto knew that Sousuke had been trying to hold back when it came to stressing the muscle, but his demanding role was slowing the process considerably. The familiar feeling of guilt hit him hard in the stomach. He was the healer. He was supposed to make it better. 

So why wasn't it getting better?

“Did Nanase come with you today?” Sousuke asked. His voice was hard, indifferent. But Makoto knew that he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested.

“Yes. I’m glad to see him and Rin… bonding, again.” Makoto smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure how often Haru had been visiting the sultan without him, but he was sure it was happening. There were days when Haru was already there when Makoto was summoned, walking the palace gardens quietly with Rin. Even at a distance the electricity between them was obvious. From what Makoto had seen and understood, they bickered often, but were also incredibly affectionate with each other, almost to an embarrassing amount for the sultan and the guards watching over him. On their walks, Makoto had always seen the pair with goblets of shining water in their hands, the metal absently clinking as they walked side by side. 

Makoto couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy. He loved Haru, and Rin had been one of his closest friends as a child, but the selfish, envious part of Makoto always seemed to resurface when he saw them. He couldn’t climb over the fact that, even after all those years at Haru’s side, Rin still had a connection with Haru that he had never achieved. It was frustrating, and made Makoto’s chest feel as hollow as an empty, dusty canteen. 

“Why did he leave in the first place?” Sousuke’s words snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. He met Sousuke’s dark eyes and blinked at their ferocity.

“W-what do you mean?” 

“He left Iwatobi for a long time,” Sousuke said, “I want to know why. All of his friends and family are here, and his occupation doesn’t involve travel, like yours. It doesn’t make sense.” 

“Why are you so interested in Haru, all of a sudden?” Makoto asked. He corked the paste and gently placed it back in his bag, nervousness tugging at him. He didn’t want to admit, especially to Sousuke, that some of those questions he couldn’t answer for sure. 

“I don’t trust someone who leaves everything behind to be with my best friend,” Sousuke replied. He shifted closer to Makoto, their noses brushing slightly. He met Makoto's eyes with a guarded, determined look. “I don’t trust him with Rin.” 

Makoto swallowed, momentarily drunk on Sousuke’s closeness. The general smelled of mint leaves and honey, something Makoto hadn’t noticed before. His chest glowed in the dim light of the bedroom, the candles playing with shadows across his jawline and collarbone. Those eyes were intent, almost seeming to glow in the darkness. 

Makoto swallowed. He leaned in to kiss Sousuke, but Sousuke stopped him with a gentle finger on his chin. He regarded Makoto affectionately, before regaining his steely composure. 

“Please, Makoto.” 

Makoto sighed, a little hurt. He sat back on his heels and studied Sousuke’s face, trying to remember the question. Something about Haru leaving...

“Well, I’m not totally sure of Haru’s motives, myself,” he admitted, “He’d always been restless. Even as a child, he spoke of stories his mother told him about a place where there was water in all directions. He always did have a strange connection with water. But… I don’t think that was his reason for leaving.” 

“Of course it’s not. That’s stupid.” Sousuke scowled. 

“You’d be surprised. The intensity of Haru’s admiration for water is not something easily rivalled,” Makoto said, smiling. 

“Well, if that’s not his reason, then what is it?” Sousuke probed. He leaned forward, lowered eyes bright with interest.

“I always figured it was because he felt stifled by the separation between the classes in Iwatobi,” Makoto shrugged, “Growing up in the slums of the city was hard enough. Getting to know someone, like Rin, who practically lived in a different world of comfort and beauty, just made it harder. Haru’s always been a free spirit. I think knowing that he and Rin would always be separated by an invisible wall drove him crazy. He grew tired of being disrespected just because of who he was born to.” Makoto blinked, his fingers absently massaging the back of his neck. He glanced up at Sousuke, a little taken aback by the force of his own words. Sousuke watched him carefully, and nodded for him to continue. “He and Rin have always been a part of each other. I sometimes think… Maybe Haru thought it would be easier to turn his back on personal ties then carry the burden of his own feelings and restrictions. There are no divisions and classes in the desert.” 

“So… What changed? Why did he come back?” Sousuke asked. Makoto shrugged one shoulder. 

“If there’s one thing Haru treasures, it’s his freedom. By returning, he kind of gave that up. So who knows what drove him to do that. Maybe Rin. Maybe his family. Or, maybe, it was too much for him. Maybe he left for breathing space, and realized that the world is filled with too much air for one man to breathe.” 

“Hm.” Sousuke massaged his jaw thoughtfully. Silence fell between them, and Makoto considered the expensive rug beneath him, tracing the patterns with his fingers. 

“Does that make sense?” Makoto asked. 

“Yeah, it does,” Sousuke sighed, as if disappointed, “Do you think he’s back for good?” 

“I...I would hope so. It would break my heart if he left, again. And I know it would hurt Rin and the others, too,” Makoto said. Sousuke observed him closely, head slightly tilted. He lifted a finger to absently brush a stray piece of hair out of Makoto’s eyes. 

“Have you ever felt like that?” he asked, his voice hoarse, “Have you ever felt like leaving for real?” 

Makoto didn’t reply immediately. He considered the question, surprised to realize that he had never thought about where he himself stood on the subject. 

“No. No, I don’t think I’ll ever feel the way Haru felt. I mean, we grew up under the same conditions. We were both kicked in the mud and told we didn’t matter as much as those lucky enough to be born into higher-ranking families. But, in the end, I wasn’t as strong as Haru. I couldn’t break past my ties. When Haru left, it was like I was being held prisoner by the things I loved the most. It was… agony.”

Makoto’s fists clenched, and his heart pounded raggedly. It was so strange to voice these feelings, feelings he hadn’t even known he possessed. But the truth of the words leaving his mouth were like a smack to the face. Makoto’s ears rang with their truth. When he spoke again, his voice was weak. “I wanted to follow him into a better world, where we were just as important as everyone else, just as valued. But I… I couldn’t do it.” 

“Makoto…” Sousuke cupped Makoto’s cheek with his hand. Makoto glanced away. He looked and studied the finery of the room: the drapes, the cushions, the portraits on the walls. Anything besides Sousuke's face. 

“When I finally did leave Iwatobi, it wasn’t because I was strong enough to break free. It was because the home I was so hung up over called me to do it. I’ve become so dependent on these walls, on these streets. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of. It’s a little pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Humiliation began to throb in Makoto as a couple of tears leaked from his eyes. He laughed, sniffling, hoping to play it off. Embarrassment washed over him as Sousuke blinked in surprise. 

I don't think I've cried in front of someone since I was a child... Makoto realized, wiping away a couple drops with the inside of his wrist, I've... always been so careful about crying when nobody was looking, so they wouldn't see me like this. Does that make me a coward?

"Are you alright?" Sousuke asked the question softly, his deep voice lowered to a whisper. Makoto swallowed a sob and nodded. 

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I just don't like to think about myself that much. It's just more drama to deal with, you know?" His voice caught as another wave of tears fell down his face. He felt his nose and cheeks flush red, and his fingers shook. 

"Caring about yourself doesn't mean you're dramatic, Makoto. It means you're a human being."

"It just feels selfish. Unnatural." Makoto sniffed, quickly wiping his nose and coughing a couple times into his sleeve. He held it there, letting the tears be absorbed into the material, instead of dropping to make the exprensive carpets beneath him wet. "I've got responsibilities to m-my friends and family. I'd much rather care about them than myself."

Sousuke sighed, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Why do you have to be so damn selfless?" he asked, almost demanded. The insistence in his voice made Makoto jump slightly, his chin wobbling. Sousuke's eyes instantly flashed with regret. He pulled Makoto closer to him, his bare skin hot against Makoto's fingertips. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Sousuke brushed the tears away with a grim expression. He placed a kiss against Makoto’s lips and held it, lending Makoto his warmth. Makoto smiled through the soft sobs escaping through his teeth as Sousuke pulled away. 

“I’m sorry. This is humiliating…” 

“No, Makoto. Don’t apologize," Sousuke breathed. He rested his forehead against Makoto’s, his soft hair tickling his forehead. “You always apologize, when you shouldn't. I'm... I'm sorry for making you tell me."

“You didn’t make me do anything.” Makoto mumbled. He smiled. “This is… So weird. I barely know you, and I’m practically telling you my life story.” 

“I couldn’t care less how long we’ve known each other,” Sousuke’s voice was deep and sure. He kissed Makoto, harder this time, parting his lips to run his tongue along Makoto’s teeth. Makoto met him, the last of his tears dripping from his jaw to be absorbed into the carpet. He wrapped his arms around Sousuke’s neck and allowed himself to be held tightly. Sousuke held his waist, only tearing his lips away from Makoto’s to kiss the hollow of his cheek softly. 

Hungry for the taste of Sousuke’s mouth, Makoto turned his head to meet him. He kissed him roughly. Sousuke, obviously a little taken aback by his sudden energy, kissed him back hard. He lifted one hand from Makoto’s waist to curl his fingers into his hair. Their teeth clacked against each other as they embraced, and heat sprung between their mouths. 

Makoto pulled away, panting, and held his face against Sousuke’s. He smiled into the other’s neck, the last remaining tears touching Sousuke's skin and were absorbed into his warmth. Sousuke held him with his stable, strong arms, and gently guided Makoto to sit in his lap. Makoto felt his fingers curl into his clothes, almost desperately, as if he were a lifeforce, a beam of light in a sea of darkness. He closed his eyes and listened to the beating of their hearts against each other's.

They held each other and rocked, and Makoto, surprisingly, was happier than he’d been in a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru and Makoto talk and Sousuke meets Makoto's family...

“Makoto, is that a hickey?” Haru’s flat voice caught Makoto off-guard, and he felt fingers tug his scarf down. Makoto flinched. Panic began to rise in his chest as Haru stepped closer to examine the mark on his throat, his bright eyes blinking in interest. 

“U-uh, no. I must’ve… Fallen over, or something,” Makoto mumbled. He quickly lifted his wrap tighter around his neck, obscuring Haru’s view. Haru sat back with a thoughtful expression, obviously catching Makoto’s lame excuse for a lie. 

“You fell over,” Haru echoed, “On your neck. You fell over and bruised that one spot.” Makoto gulped. He avoided Haru’s gaze and took a long drink of sandy water from his canteen, his cheeks burning. Haru watched him calmly. 

“Er, yeah. Or… It might be from when Ran threw a rock at me earlier.” 

“Ran threw a rock at you?” 

“It was an, uh, accident. No big deal.” Makoto wiped his face and forced himself to meet Haru’s gaze. Haru blinked at him a couple times, his expression as steely as ever.  
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you know,” he muttered grudgingly, “If it’s private, then just say so. Don’t lie. I know when you’re lying.” He leaned back up against the clay wall of the tavern, taking a slow sip from his own canteen. Makoto’s limbs felt heavy with guilt and embarrassment. 

“...Sorry,” he muttered. Haru just shrugged and looked away, watching the bustle of the tavern around them. Makoto had come to catch Haru during one of his breaks, when his parents let him rest from the hype of cooking. The Nanase's were lightning bolts of determination: Haru’s mother weaved through the tables with scary precision, taking orders and setting down meals with a stony face, similar to her son’s. Haru’s father, however, laughed and crowed from where he worked, having three different conversations with the people waiting before him. His liveliness was enough to fill the whole room, and balanced out the steely glares of his wife and son. 

“It’s busier than usual, today,” Makoto observed. He pressed himself harder against the wall as a bearded, shouting man barged past them, swinging his cup angrily. Makoto glanced over at Haru. “Eh… How’s the sultan?” 

Haru shrugged. He didn’t reply for a moment, but gave Makoto one of his rare smiles. “Fine.” 

Makoto beamed. “That’s good to hear! You’ve been seeing a lot of each other, right?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Is it weird, after being apart for so long?” 

“Nah. He’s still a pain in the ass,” Haru replied. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised that you’d describe him like that,” Makoto laughed, mindlessly rotating the ring on his finger. He thought again of his conversation with Sousuke, and the nagging question that was eating at his mind: Haru wouldn’t leave Rin again, would he? He glanced at Haru out of the corner of his eye. Surely not. Haru would never admit it outloud, but Rin was as much a part of his life as he was of Rin’s. The two bickered like an old married couple, but Makoto could tell that a new light had returned to Haru, no matter what he said about the topic. 

He was glad to see Haru so happy. 

“You know, it’s not a big deal.” Haru spoke suddenly, meeting Makoto’s gaze and catching him off guard. “The hickey, I mean. You can let whoever you want suck on your neck, even if it is some bone-headed general who follows Rin around like an old hunting dog.” 

“W-wha?” Makoto bristled, heat immediately springing to his cheeks. “What do you-?” 

“You really think I wouldn’t catch on?” Haru rolled his eyes. He looked up at Makoto with a new insistence in his sky-blue eyes. “Kiss who you want. I’m not your mother. But I am your friend, and I’d rather you not play around with powerful people. It’ll just lead to trouble.” 

“That’s a little hypocritical, isn’t it?” Makoto demanded, his voice squeaking nervously. 

“Makoto, I don’t have a lot to lose. You do. You have a family that would be heart-broken over you if… something happened. You have people who depend on you, who need you.” 

“People need you, too!” 

“No, they don’t.” Haru looked away, his hands clutching his canteen. “There… may have been a time where they did, but not after I left. No matter what I do, people will always remember that I left, and that you didn’t. I don’t have anything to lose by… By loving Rin.” 

Makoto froze. He watched Haru for a long time, and Haru’s cheeks flushed pink. When Makoto spoke, his voice was hoarse, and didn’t sound like his own. “Y-you love Rin?”  
“It doesn’t matter. Just… be careful. I don’t trust General Yamazaki, no matter what Rin says.” A flash of emotion, - concern, - passed through Haru’s eyes. Makoto blinked, unable to reply. He met Haru’s gaze, excitement and a twinge of relief rising like a bubble inside of him. 

Haru loved Rin. Haru loved Rin. Makoto felt himself beam, happiness for his best friend swamping him completely. He embraced Haru and laughed, nearly picking Haru up off the ground. Haru was stiff in his arms, and, when Makoto put him down, looked up at his friend with such a startled expression that Makoto laughed again. 

“I’m so happy for you. That’s… that’s amazing.” 

“What is?” 

“You love Rin! You love him! You just said it!” 

“I... didn’t say anything,” Haru protested, grabbing Makoto by the shoulders in an attempt to calm him down, “Shut up, you’re drawing attention to us, moron. Besides, that isn’t the point. The point is, you need to be careful with this Yamazaki guy-” 

“You love him,” Makoto repeated, smiling like a complete and utter idiot. He brought Haru in for another embrace and held him tightly. “Haru, that’s incredible.” Haru allowed himself to be held for a couple moments, his muscles relaxing slightly. Makoto felt his irritated sigh. 

“Don’t tell him I said that,” he said gruffly. Makoto chuckled and released him, causing him to stumble slightly. Haru patted down his hair and glanced around the tavern with slightly flushed cheeks and an agitated pout. “He’s got a big enough head, already.” 

“I won’t.” Makoto bit back another bubble of laughter. Haru sighed, but allowed himself a small smile. 

\-------

“Makoto, carry me!” A sudden weight nearly knocked Makoto over. His arm flashed out to catch himself, before he fell face- first into the sand. Thin arms wrapped around his neck and hugged him tightly, and Makoto recognized the voice of Ran. She planted a kiss on his cheek and wiggled on his back. “Giddyup! I’m a princess, and you’re my steed!” 

“I want to be a princess!” Ren piped up, running to their side. 

“No, dummy, you’re a prince.” 

“But I want to be a princess…” 

“You can be whatever you want,” Makoto smiled at is younger brother, taking his small hand. Ren flashed Ran a triumphant glare, and Ran stuck her tongue out at him, before tapping Makoto more insistently on the shoulder. 

“C’mon, steed! Take me to the castle! I’m a princess!” she demanded. 

“Ran, I’m working. Maybe later,” Makoto loosened her grip on his neck gently, and she slipped off, giving him room to straighten with a basket of neatly bundled herbs. She pouted up at him, before something dawned on her, and she began excitedly bouncing around Makoto’s legs. 

“Have you met the princess? Have you?” she demanded, yanking on Makoto’s robes. 

“Um… Not personally, but I’ve seen her a couple times,” Makoto replied remembering chance moments at the palace, when he’d gotten a glimpse of an exquisitely dressed young woman with hair as bright as the setting sun. She shared many physical traits with her brother the sultan - piercing crimson eyes, pale, ivory skin, and rumpled red hair that she wore up, bundled in golden coils. She was often accompanied by a tall man with sharp amber eyes and wind-swept auburn hair, who Makoto recognized as her fiance. 

“Is she pretty? What does her voice sound like? Did she have flowing robes and a pet tiger? Does she ride an elephant? Are her best friends peacocks?” Ran smothered him with questions, her green eyes bright and excited. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, all of that,” Makoto said, smiling down at his sister fondly. 

“Maybe I’ll go to the palace and be her friend, like when you went to the palace to be friends with the sultan!” Ran said, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down, “Maybe she’ll let me ride her elephant and pet her tiger!” 

“I want to come!” Ren wailed. He looked up at Makoto with distressed brown eyes. “Makoto, can’t I come, too? I want to see a tiger and peacocks!” 

“We’ll see,” Makoto said. He nodded his head forward. “C’mon, let’s go. Mother will be wondering where you two are.” 

“Race you!” Ran pushed Ren’s shoulder, sprinting past Makoto down the sandy street. Ren streaked after her, his short legs flashing out from under him as he cried for Ran to wait up. Makoto smiled to himself and followed more slowly, loaded down by the weight of his basket. He smiled at the merchants milling around him, recognizing quite a few of them. A pair of old women greeted him with crooked smiles, momentarily stopping his walk to pinch his cheeks and marvel at how tall he was. He quickly and politely bid them goodbye, hurrying his pace to catch up with his siblings, the basket bouncing in his hands. The blinding sun shone high overhead, wetting Makoto’s forehead with sweat. 

His family’s clay building came into view as he rounded a corner, and Makoto slowed, blinking in surprise. A magnificent white stallion, decorated with a brilliant leather and silver saddle, was docked outside, pawing at the sandy ground and shaking it’s silvery mane. Makoto approached it slowly, examining it in utter bewilderment. 

“Look at the horse, Mako!” Ran said, appearing suddenly from behind the horse’s lean legs. Her face shone with awe. “Isn’t it pretty? I wanna ride it!” 

“Whose horse is it?” Makoto asked. He flinched as the horse swung its head towards him, snuffling at his hair with it’s velvety lips. He smiled and massaged beneath its chin.

“I dunno. Ren got scared, though, and ran inside.” Ran shrugged. She looked back to the horse, running her small hand over it’s pretty coat. “I want a horse.” 

“Makoto!” an urgent voice hissed from behind Makoto, and he turned, to see his mother poking her head out of the door, eyes wide. She motioned him forward anxiously. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, setting down the basket and approaching her. 

“We have a guest. Come in, come in.” His mother ushered him inside with a stern hand. She paused and regarded him before quickly wiping smudges off of his face and straightening his robes. She then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the open room, where the family ate their meals and where Makoto slept. 

“Makoto.” A familiar, deep voice greeted him, and Makoto stiffened. 

Sousuke sat in his home, legs crossed and cape and robes swept out behind him. He sat with a perfectly straight back and a cool gaze, a sight rare to Makoto. The general was completely dressed in the finest clothing Makoto had ever seen him in - dark blue cloaks lined with silver, perfectly trimmed leather boots, and war gloves on his hands. His ears shone with silver earrings, and a mighty sword hung from his belt, awkwardly propped against his leg. 

It was the strangest sight Makoto had ever seen. 

Here Sousuke sat, dressed like a prince, in Makoto’s own dusty home. Makoto’s father sat across from him, calmly sipping tea as if this were a regular day. His mother quaked with anxiety at his side, and she glared at Sousuke with such a ferocity that Makoto was impressed that Sousuke could hold her gaze. 

“Sou- General Yamazaki,” Makoto corrected himself quickly, blinking. “What are you doing here?” 

“You forgot your bag of herbs last night,” Sousuke replied. He nodded to the bag, propped up against the wall. “I came to return it to you.” His intent eyes flickered to Makoto’s neck, where the mark he had left before was, before meeting his gaze again.

“Oh. Well, thank you, but I don’t think it was necessary for you to come down yourself,” Makoto said. He studied Sousuke’s face, taken aback by how stony he was. Sousuke had never looked at him like that before. 

“Makoto, don’t be rude,” his mother hissed. 

“No, he’s fine,” Sousuke said, raising a hand. He looked back to Makoto. “You’re always complaining about stressing the sultan’s messengers, so I decided to deliver myself.”

“W-well, we’re very honored to have you here, General Yamazaki,” Makoto’s mother said, dipping in an awkward bow. Makoto’s father just rolled his eyes, obviously not impressed by Sousuke. 

“Who’s that?” A bold voice demanded, and Ran barged into the room, Ren in tow. She jabbed a finger at Sousuke and quirked an eyebrow. “Is that your horse outside?” 

“Yes.” Sousuke answered evenly, as if he were interrogated by small girls all the time. 

“Can I ride it? I wanna ride it.” Ran puffed out her chest and pouted at Sousuke. 

“Ran…” Makoto’s mother warned. Ran ignored her and continued to stare at the general in determination, her hands on her thin hips. Ren peeked over her shoulder, eyeing Sousuke nervously. 

“I’m sure General Yamazaki will let you ride the horse later, Ran,” Makoto’s father said. He watched Sousuke over the rim of his cup. “Right, General Yamazaki?”

“Uh, sure,” Sousuke said. 

“Okay. Later, though,” Ran nodded in agreement. She moved to Sousuke’s side and promptly sat in his lap, clamping both hands on either side of his face. Sousuke started, and sent Makoto a panicked look over her head. Makoto stifled a laugh. He covered his smile with his hand and turned away so his mother wouldn’t see. Ran expected Sousuke closely. “You’re very handsome. Can a marry you, when I get bigger? Or are you marrying the princess?” 

“I’m not marrying anybody,” Sousuke mumbled, as Ran squished his lips together. His usually calm eyes swam with panic. Makoto clutched his sides, trying not to double over from suppressed laughter. His father seemed to be struggling with a similar dilemma, as he was biting the rim of his cup and holding his stomach. 

“Great. Marry me, then,” Ran said. 

“W-wait, what about me?” Ren piped up. He nervously scrambled forward and tugged at Sousuke’s cape, eyes wide and watery. “I want to get married, too!” 

“Let’s all get married!” Ran crowed, throwing her arms up in the air and releasing Sousuke’s face. Sousuke blinked, and glanced to Makoto in a silent plea for help.

“Okay, that’s enough. Leave General Yamazaki alone,” Makoto said through his smile. He moved to Sousuke’s side and waved Ran off of his lap, before picking an anxious Ren up and letting him hold his neck. Ran bounced on her heels, eyes alight. 

“I’m going to marry a general,” she said proudly. 

“You’re two young, Ran,” Makoto replied. 

“But I’ll get bigger. And then I’ll marry him.” 

“N-not if I marry him first!” Ren said, his fingers curling into Makoto’s robes. He glanced down at Sousuke beseechingly. “You won’t beat me this time, Ran!” 

“Alright, you two. Settle down. You’re scaring General Yamazaki,” Makoto said. He ruffled Ran’s hair and looked at Sousuke with an apologetic look. Sousuke met his gaze gratefully, not bothering to comment on being scared by two young twins. 

“Will you be joining us for dinner, general?” Makoto’s father asked. 

“Uh, no. In fact, I should be going.” Sousuke straightened, his robes swaying powerfully behind him. He nodded to Makoto’s father and mother. “Thank you for having me. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with your son for a moment.” 

“W-well, I don’t see why not,” Makoto’s mother mumbled, glancing at Makoto nervously. 

“Right. To check your shoulder?” Makoto burst, giving Sousuke a meaningful look. 

“Yeah. Yeah, to check my shoulder,” Sousuke caught the hint. He dipped in a bow to the Tachibanas, before moving for the door. Makoto followed more slowly, feeling the anxious gazes of his parents on his back as he left the house. Sousuke paused to wait for him. As soon as Makoto closed the door behind them, he sighed, shoulders relaxing. He looked at Makoto with exhausted eyes. 

“I… thought it would be romantic to come visit you,” he said in a low voice. Makoto snorted. 

“Yes, scaring the crap out of my mother and promising my little siblings a horseback ride is incredibly romantic,” he said with a smile. 

“At least I got to meet your family,” Sousuke pointed out. He rubbed his neck and returned Makoto’s grin. “Your siblings are very… Bold. I don’t think I’ve ever met a kid who wasn’t frightened of me until today. And now, apparently, I’m engaged to both of them.” 

Makoto laughed. “They’re good judges of character.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Sousuke regarded him softly, the steely face from before only a memory. Makoto felt his heart skip a beat as Sousuke came closer and brushed his fingers against his cheek. Makoto sighed, momentarily closing his eyes at his touch, before remembering himself. He cleared his throat and pushed Sousuke’s hand away, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. 

“...Ah. Right.” Sousuke swallowed, hurt flashing in his eyes. Makoto looked up at him apologetically. He rubbed his arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss Sousuke, but all too aware of the milling people around them. 

Sousuke ran a hand through his hair, glancing around, before moving a step closer to Makoto to whisper in his ear. 

“Is there any chance you’ll come back with me?” he asked. 

Temptation rattled Makoto. He hesitated. “I shouldn’t…” 

“Tell your family that my shoulder’s gotten worse, so you have to spend the night,” Sousuke pressed, eyes glinting mischievously. 

“That would be a lie.” 

“Just a little one.” Sousuke pouted. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want to lie to my family.” He met Sousuke’s intense gaze and faltered. “Although, maybe just once…” 

Sousuke smirked.


	9. Chapter 9

Makoto sighed and leaned his back against the cool, smooth surface of the bath, the high water tugging gently at his hair. Sweet-smelling, lavender bubbles surrounded him like a cloud, and a couple of pink blossoms even floated on the surface of the water, courtesy of the servant girl who had turned a deep crimson whenever she looked at him. Makoto had thanked her with his most friendly smile, and she had blubbered something in panic before rushing away. 

Makoto inhaled the clean, sweet air, his fingers flexing at his sides and the water rippling at the slightest of movements. He dunked his head underwater and blew a stream of bubbles through his nose, his eyes open and watching the surface above him move and dance with the golden light through the window. Peace filled his body, and Makoto wished that he could stay beneath the water forever, in cool oblivion, no matter how pruny his fingers became. 

It was a shame to resurface for air. He puffed, the water still lapping at his ears and hair. A shadow fell over him, and Sousuke leaned over the edge of the tub, placing a kiss on Makoto’s forehead. His mouth moved in speech, but the water clogging Makoto’s ears temporarily deafened him. He lifted his head out of the water, nearly bumping faces with Sousuke. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Nothing. You just look pretty.” Sousuke smiled. Makoto smiled up at him, lifting one arm out of the water to run his fingers through Sousuke’s hair. Sousuke leaned against his dripping hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, tracing Makoto’s eyebrow with his thumb, “I can have someone send us something, or we can go eat with Rin and Gou in the dining room. Nanase might be there, actually.” 

“Really? Won’t the sultan be a little weirded out that you’re bringing your healer to breakfast?” 

“No, he knows. I can’t hide anything from him.” 

“Then… Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” Makoto shifted, the water lapping at the sides of the marble tub at the movement. “I mean, he’s the sultan. Somebody like me doesn’t usually get to eat breakfast with royalty.” 

“All the more reason to take advantage of this opportunity,” Sousuke said, shrugging one shoulder. He placed a kiss on the tip of Makoto’s nose, before straightening. His bare chest caught the morning sunlight filtering through the window, the robe around his waist hanging low on his broad frame. Makoto forced himself into a sitting position, and he watched Sousuke with a smile. 

“I’ll lend you something to wear, if you want,” Sousuke offered. He eyed Makoto’s sandy robes on the floor. “There’s no way in hell that I’m letting you wear those when you could be so much more comfortable. Maybe I’ll request someone to wash your robes while we’re eating.” 

Makoto laughed nervously. “No thanks. I don’t think I like the idea of somebody washing my things for me.” 

“Fine. But I’m still getting you something else. Wait here.” Sousuke slipped through the door, back into his chambers. Makoto stepped out of the tub and selected a towel to wrap around his waist. He unplugged the tub and sighed, running an absent-minded hand through his hair. 

When Sousuke reappeared, he held a bundle of neatly-folded cloth in his hand. He paused for a moment in the doorway, taking a second to look Makoto up and down with a smile, before handing Makoto the bundle. Makoto took it gratefully. He pinched the top of the robes and let them fall. 

“Uh, wow,” he breathed, blinking. The robes were thin, light, and soft beneath his fingers, like water. They were a deep green, richer than any plant Makoto had ever seen, (and his occupation dealt literally just with plants,) and resembled more the deep emerald of a jewel. The sleeves and hem were trimmed with gold, flowing designs that only made the green of the material appear more vibrant. Makoto looked up at Sousuke with wide eyes. 

“I’m going to wear this to breakfast?” he asked, looking back at the robes. He smiled anxiously. “This looks like it could buy my family’s entire business!” 

"You don't like it?" 

"N-no, that's not what I meant." Makoto winced. "It's just a little... formal, isn't it?"

Sousuke flushed. He rubbed his neck and looked away. “I, uh, grabbed the first green thing I saw. I thought it would bring out your eyes…” he mumbled. 

“Aw.” Makoto smiled, overcome by the awkward, but undeniably adorable attempt. “You’re cute.” 

“Cute?” Sousuke echoed. He scowled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute before.” 

“You call me cute all the time.” 

“That’s because you are,” Sousuke shrugged, “I would prefer ‘sexy,’ myself.” 

Makoto laughed. “Well, you’re that, too,” he replied, feeling his cheeks heat up. He glanced away in frustration. It had been moons since he and Sousuke had known each other, and he still flushed at the slightest things. Sousuke grinned at him, and stepped forward to rub Makoto’s neck. 

“Thank you. You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to. There’s a whole wardrobe of cloaks that might suit your taste better.” 

“No, I’ll wear this.” Makoto sighed, his fingers curling into the light material. He met Sousuke's gaze and leaned his forehead against the other's. “It matches my eyes, after all.” 

Sousuke returned his grin and tugged him closer. Their lips met, the emerald robes squished between them, and Makoto felt every part of his body tingle with happiness. 

\----

The dining room, like the rest of the palace, was spectacular. 

It was much gaudier than most of what Makoto had seen, with sloping, elegant marble pillars and floors engraved with complicated designs. There was little to no blank space on the walls, being mostly covered with magnificently colored tapestries, murals, and drapes. The glassy marble floor sloped upward, to a huge velvet cushion laid with mahogany panels to eat from. The entire room smelled of enticing, mouth-watering scents that made Makoto’s stomach bellow loudly. 

Sousuke led the way, nodding to the four people already seated. Makoto followed more slowly, alarm flashing through him as he recognized the pale, heart-shaped face of the princess Gou. Her dusty yellow garments, the color of a pale rose, were strewn out around her, making her hair look even more shocking. Large hoops hung from her ears, and her small hands were curled against her crossed legs. At her side sat her fiance, the nobleman Seijurou, who was laughing loudly as he conversed with the sultan Rin, who sat at the head of the establishment. 

Makoto felt a wave of relief as he recognized Haru on Rin’s other side, quietly sitting with his legs crossed neatly. He wore a simple blue robe and bands around his forehead, wrists, and ankles, the clothes of a simple nobleman. His eyes flickered to Makoto’s and held them for a moment, before he smiled and lifted a hand to give a tiny wave. Makoto beamed and returned it. 

“Sousuke!” The princess’s fiance, Seijurou, boomed upon their entrance. He grinned a toothy grin. “Finally decided to join us after all these moons? It seems that every morning you’re holed up in your room, sulking.” He placed both hands on his folded knees, his tan, banded arms catching the light. 

“Good morning, Sei.” Sousuke dipped his head in greeting. 

“Who’s your friend? The famous healer we’ve been hearing so much about?” the nobleman scoffed. “Why is he dressed like he’s attending his own wedding?”

Makoto flushed under that excited, sharp amber gaze, suddenly all too aware of how much he stood out in Sousuke’s dress robes. 

“This is Makoto,” Sousuke said flatly, disregarding Seijurou's blunt latter question. 

“Uh, nice to meet you.” Makoto hesitated, before moving forward to shake the nobleman’s hand. He let out a surprised yelp as Seijurou straightened and pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing him hard on the cheek. 

“Sei, you’re going to squish him,” Princess Gou sighed. From her voice, Makoto had an inkling that she was accustomed to her fiance’s loud greetings. He stumbled slightly as Seijurou set him back down. 

“So, you’re Sou’s lover, right?” Seijuro asked, taking Makoto’s hand and shaking firmly. Makoto felt his face go red, and he blubbered for a moment, trying to find the right words. Before he could form an adequate reply, however, Seijurou had cut him off again. “Haruka also tells us that you and he are good friends. What a coincidence! Who knew both Rin and Sousuke liked peasants?” 

“Hey, lay off,” Rin warned, and Makoto jumped at the sultan’s sharp tone. Seijurou pouted at him, but released Makoto, muttering an apology and sitting back down at Princess Gou’s side. 

“Go ahead and sit,” Sousuke’s warm hand on Makoto’s back surprised him, and he looked up into those comforting turquoise eyes. Swallowing, he sat beside Haru, and Sousuke plopped down indifferently beside him. He immediately reached for a roll of golden bread and tore into it. 

“Please, eat,” Princess Gou spoke, and Makoto looked up at her. The princess smiled at him and extended her hand out to the mountains of steaming food before them. “Help yourself.” 

“T-thank you,” Makoto mumbled. He hesitated, before reaching for a roll and holding it to his mouth. The crust crunched underneath his teeth, and flavor burst onto his tongue. He paused, eyes wide, savoring the taste as much as he could. 

“You’re no different than Haru,” Rin said, smirking. He glanced at Haru, who shot him an annoyed look. “When he first joined me for a meal, he was frozen for what felt like moons.” 

“Shut up,” Haru growled, before pushing a chunk of cheese into his mouth. 

“I-It’s amazing,” Makoto mumbled around a mouthful of bread. He reached for a platter of white cheese and olives, eager to accompany the roll with other flavors. Sousuke laughed beside him. 

“Pace yourself. You’ll get sick if you eat too much.” 

“It’s a tad ironic that you’d have to tell a healer that,” Princess Gou said, chuckling. Makoto paused, momentarily awed by her kind smile. The similarities between her and the sultan were overwhelming, but, even still, the princess seemed to have a much more approachable air around her. Despite that, Makoto reminded himself never to provoke a glare from her. He had a hunch that a glare from those bright scarlet eyes would be enough to leave a burn. 

“How’s your shoulder?” Rin’s question snapped Makoto out of his thoughts. The sultan addressed Sousuke, a golden goblet of clear water lifted to his lips. 

Sousuke shrugged. “Makoto knows better than me.” 

Makoto stiffened as all eyes turned on him. He swallowed, his fingers shaking slightly, and he met the sultan’s gaze. “It’s making progress, but not nearly as quickly as I’d like. He really stressed the muscle by working it even after he felt pain, which caused even more severe damage. Really the best thing I can do at this point is tell him to get plenty of rest and give him painkillers. But, if he continues what he’s doing now, the muscle will rejoin and heal in a matter of seasons.” 

Rin scowled, his fingers playing over the rim of his goblet. “That long?” 

Makoto nodded. “Unfortunately, he’s paying for the time he spent straining it. I’m glad that you summoned my father and I when you did, though. If he had continued to stress the muscle, it might’ve given out for good.” Makoto couldn’t help a glance at Sousuke, his eyebrows drawn together. Sousuke didn’t meet his gaze. His bright eyes glared at the food before him. 

“Well, I’m very grateful,” Rin said with a sigh. He smiled a sharp smile. “Believe it or not, I actually kind of care what happens to this moron.” 

“You’re very good to do this for us,” Princess Gou added. She grinned sadly at Sousuke. “General Yamazaki has been like a second brother to me, my whole life. I hate to see him struggle so. It’s nice to know that you’re for him.” She looked at Makoto with kind eyes. “Both as a healer and a friend.” 

“They’re a little more than friends, aren’t they?” Haru spoke around a mouthful of chipotti. Makoto and Sousuke both stiffened, their shoulders touching, and Makoto stared at his hands, feeling his face burn red. He mentally cursed Haru for his bluntness.

Rin threw back his head and laughed at their expressions. Seijurou snorted into his hand, and Princess Gou rolled her eyes. Haru just smirked into the cup he lifted to sip from. 

“I don’t see why you’re both so flustered,” the princess sighed, “Makoto is literally wearing one of your dress robes, Sousuke. And you haven’t stopped talking about him since the two of you met.” 

“W-wait, what?” Makoto lifted his head to look at Sousuke, who was sending such an icy glare her way that it was impressive she didn’t recoil. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ve never heard him talk so much about someone,” Rin added with a chuckle, “He kept asking me how to get your attention. Hey, Sousuke, remember when you requested two dozen candles and-” 

“Alright, alright,” Sousuke growled, holding his hands up in surrender, “It’s not like you have any room to talk, Rin. All you do is blabber on about how ‘mysterious,’ and ‘handsome,’ Nanase is.” 

Haru nearly choked on his drink, and a horrified panic flashed across Rin’s face. His cheeks as bright as his hair, the sultan slammed a hand against the wooden platform and jabbed a threatening finger at Sousuke. He spluttered, and seemed unable to form words. Seijurou roared with laughter, clapping a hand against his forehead and clutching his sides. Gou giggled uncontrollably. 

“Mysterious? Handsome?” she echoed through bursts of laughter. She poked her brother in the arm with each word. Rin swatted her away, his sharp teeth clenched as he continued to glare at Sousuke. Sousuke sat back in triumph and sent Makoto a wink. Makoto clamped a hand over his mouth and smiled behind it. 

“I’m mysterious?” Haru asked, lifting an eyebrow at Rin. Rin glowered at him. 

“Shut up. I’m sure you say plenty of things, too.” 

“Not really.” Haru shrugged and selected an olive, popping it into his mouth. 

“Yeah? Makoto, Haru hasn’t said anything about me?” Rin demanded, looking to Makoto with folded arms and an almost begging expression. Makoto’s mind went to the day before, when Haru had confessed he loved Rin, and immediately decided not to voice the memory. It wasn’t his place to say something so important and intimate. 

“W-well, Haru’s never really been a talker…” Makoto said, rubbing his neck and glancing out of the corner of his eye at his best friend, who was watching him steadily. He smiled. Moments from their childhood resurfaced, of Haru turning pink whenever Rin flashed him that mischievous grin, pretending like nothing mattered to him, but stealing glances at the young prince and grudgingly accepting all of his suggestions. “But I know he really cares about you.”

Rin blinked. “...He does?” 

“Yeah.” Makoto grinned nervously and met Haru’s gaze. “I think you’re very important to him.” 

Haru didn’t reply. He pursed his lips and looked at his hands, his face blank. Rin regarded him for a few moments, blinking, before leaning forward to place a kiss on Haru’s cheek. 

“You matter to me, too, idiot.” 

“Shut up,” Haru said, lifting his head to glare at the sultan. They stared at each other for a moment, until Rin leaned forward to meet their lips. Makoto started, a little surprised at their boldness. He glanced at Sousuke, who rolled his eyes. 

“I told you. He’s a hopeless romantic,” he said, casually bumping his knee against Makoto’s. 

“That’s Rin, for you,” Princess Gou agreed. She clasped her hands and leaned her chin on them, sighing as she watched her brother and Haru kiss. “A sucker for nice biceps and pretty blue eyes.” 

“Do I get a kiss?” Seijurou whined, leaning towards his fiance with a pout. Princess Gou smiled and brought his face closer to hers to peck his lips briefly. Seijurou straightened, smiling a wide smile, and Makoto had a hard time recognizing the fire-haired man who was grinning like a child in front of him as a serious and powerful nobleman. It was almost comical to see him beam down at the princess like a love-struck puppy. 

“Ugh, I’m surrounded by romantics,” Sousuke sighed. He wiped his mouth lazily with the back of his hand, the bands around his arms catching the light and temporarily blinding Makoto. 

“Says the man who set up flowers and candles when you decided to woo me,” Makoto said, laughing. Sousuke huffed and looked away, running a hand through his hair. 

"Aw, he's just feeling left out," Seijurou teased. He motioned towards Makoto with a wide grin. "Spare him, I beg of you, before he disappears into his dark chambers again to sulk."

"I don't sulk." Sousuke glowered. 

"Yeah, you do," the princess added, not bothering to look up from selecting an orange from the woven basket in front of her. 

"I do not." 

"Uh huh." 

Makoto couldn't help a laugh. Never, in all his life, had he expected such childishness from the most powerful people in Iwatobi. When he had imagined the sultan, general, and princess before, he'd thought of three dark shadows hanging over the palace like ghosts, silently controlling the city like puppet-masters... The image Makoto had been taught to imagine by his life in the slums, looking up at the glistening palace and wondering if it were taunting him. It was pleasant surprise to realize how utterly ridiculous these people were up close, where Makoto could see them and appreciate them fully. 

"Hey." A warm hand cupped his chin and guided his face to Sousuke's, and he let out a surprised puff as Sousuke kissed him gently. His heart skipped a beat when Sousuke pulled away with a small smile. "I don't sulk, do I?" 

"That's not fair, Sou," Seijurou whined, folding his arms over his chest. 

"Shut up, I'm proving a point."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANGST. Ugh, I'm so awful, I haven't updated in forever. -_- I've been really busy with life and like 3 other fanfics (that I'll probably post,) and I apologize for not dumping angst here sooner!

“Mother… What do you think of General Yamazaki?” Makoto asked, trying desperately to keep his voice steady. He stared down at the herbs he was sorting, a little fearful to meet her gaze. He felt his mother pause what she was doing to contemplate the question. The two sat side by side on their floor, sorting medicines, like the way they had when Makoto had been a child. His mother still had the habit of leaning over to guide his hands when he made a mistake, (although, at this point, he was a better sorter than she was.) 

“General Yamazaki?” she echoed, “Hm. I don’t know. He’s awfully young to have such a large weight on his shoulders, but he seems dependable. As far as he is as a person, I can’t say I’m all that impressed. Nice manners, but rather brooding and grumpy. Unpredictable.” She sighed and shook her head. “Another aristocrat who sleeps with the servants, I presume.” 

Makoto couldn’t help but flinch at that. Maybe asking this particular parent about his secret lover was just asking for trouble… But his curiosity and the guilt of going behind his family’s back had probed the question out of him. He cast his mother an uncertain look out of the corner of his eye. 

“W-well, who’s to say?” he asked, “Maybe he’s… not so bad.” 

His mother sighed again. She cast him a small smile. “Maybe. You probably know better than I, darling. But, Makoto, if I’m completely honest with you, I don’t trust him in the slightest around you.” 

“W-why?” 

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she said, as if Makoto were a small child, “Whenever you’re in his presence, his eyes immediately go to you, and nobody else. Like he’s… infatuated.” 

“Infatuated?” Makoto echoed. His chest tightened painfully at the disgust in her voice. “Like… In love with me?” 

“No,” his mother said, “Darling, I don’t think any of his kind are capable of love. It is one thing to be plagued with war and famine, but to have the entire city on your shoulders? People, like General Yamazaki, who have all the riches and power at their fingertips, are deadened by their wealth.” Her hands stilled on a cup of parsley. She smiled sadly at the ground. When she spoke again, her voice was low, barely more than a whisper.

“Makoto, when I was your age, my best friend in the entire world was named Ami. We were inseparable. She was much more beautiful than me - scarlet hair to her waist, like a princess. I’d… I’d braid that hair and marvel at how similar it was to the richest silk of sultans. It shown in the sun like the rubies of faraway lands. Stories of her incredible hair travelled and reached the sultan, a young man at the time. He summoned for her, and, when Ami refused, he sent soldiers to abduct her in the darkness of night.” Their eyes met, and his mother let out a shallow sigh. She supplied a tiny, fearful smile. “I never saw her again, Makoto. In a matter of hours, the sultan had taken away a living, breathing person, for his own personal gain. I can only assume that she bore his children, and died quietly, swallowed by the shadows that the sultan had cast over her existence. Every night I still pray to the stars that she is safe, wherever she is.” 

“Mother…” Makoto swallowed. He tried to find the right words, to find some form of reassurance. Not just for her, but for himself. 

Stories like Ami’s were not uncommon. They rarely included someone like the sultan, but aristocats often would send scouts into the city streets to find the most beautiful ‘playthings.’ Makoto had been taught from the birth of the twins to hold their hands tightly while shopping. If pretty women, men, and children were not immediately sent to the awaiting aristocrats, they were sent as slaves into the desert, to be transported to wherever they could be sold. From what Makoto understood from his travels, this sort of behavior wasn’t all that different in other cities. Memories were still fresh in his mind, of nights when he had been selected by a scout and followed through the empty streets. His green eyes and light hair had always been unusual for someone of his class, and he’d been shown an interest in since he was a child. He had learned quickly how to lose scouts, and had never been abducted, but there were still lonely nights haunted by shadows and possible knives to his neck. 

“Makoto, people like General Yamazaki are warped by their own greed and lust,” his mother said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She took his hand and held it tightly, rubbing her calloused thumb in circles over Makoto’s knuckles. Makoto forced himself to meet her eyes, a lump in his throat. “I don’t trust them. Especially not with you. My beautiful, green-eyed darling…” She released his hand to take his face between her palms, regarding him with soft, affectionate eyes. 

“You are much too beautiful to live the life of a simple healer,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

“N-no, don’t apologize,” Makoto mumbled. He straightened a little, and lifted a hand to overlap hers over his cheek. “What are you saying sorry for?” 

“I should’ve married a more homely man. My mother advised me to, and I refused, drunk with love and the energy of a child.” She let out a sad burst of laughter. “Maybe, if I had married somebody else, you wouldn’t have inherited my eyes and hair....” 

“Don’t be ridiculous! I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t married father,” Makoto said, his voice hitching in a lame attempt for lightness. “And neither would Ran and Ren. And you wouldn’t be happy.” 

“I’m never happy, dear. Not when I know that you go back to that man every day,” she said, voice suddenly shifting into cold seriousness. She shuffled closer on her knees and brought Makoto’s face to her neck, holding him tight, like she had when he had been a child. “If he ever so much as lays a finger on you…” 

“Sou-Er, General Yamazaki would never hurt me,” Makoto said hurriedly, “W-we’re friends.” 

His mother fell into a grim silence, and Makoto realized with a sinking stomach that she was sparing an argument. 

Surprising anger flushed through him, an anger that he couldn’t clearly direct. A surge of unpleasant furocity boiled in gut. He blinked, his eyelashes brushing his mother’s neck, and wondered where the sudden anger had come from. His mind immediately replied with a rush of answers: His mother’s inability to see through her hatred. The previous sultan’s cruelty, and the cruelty of any aristocrat who had ever laid a finger on an unsuspecting commoner. Any sleazy stranger who had ever so much as glanced in the direction of his siblings and friends. Sousuke’s warm, alluring gentleness, which had the sugary effect of blinding him from the obstacles in their way. 

It all swirled in his mind and came to rest in his chest, pumping angrily with the beating of his heart. He clung to his mother and let out a furious huff against her skin. 

\---

 

Later that evening, when taking the usual route down the palace hallways to Sousuke’s quarters, his mother’s words still rang in his mind, and the inexplicable ball of anger still writhed and boiled in his stomach. He tried to force it away, and focused instead on making casual conversation with his escorts. He was pleasantly surprised to meet Lord Seijuro’s little brother, Momo, an easily excitable guard who shared his brother’s loud voice and fire-like hair. Even a few moments with him was a little exhausting, but Makoto immediately formed an affectionate liking for him. By the time they arrived at Sousuke’s quarters, Momo was telling him the incredible story of a stag beetle he had been given from a far away land, and pleaded Makoto to tell him about all the different beetles he’d seen on his journey. 

“Maybe later,” Makoto laughed. 

“Yeah, stop bothering him,” the other guard, Minami, said. He thwacked Momo upside the head. Momo whined like a child with a freshly scraped knee.

“Hey! I was just making conversation!” 

“Well, stop it. Everything that comes out of your mouth is cringe-worthy,” Minami said. He sighed and opened the grand doors for Makoto, muttering a polite good-bye and apology for Momo’s begging. Makoto couldn’t suppress a fond smile as Momo waved excitedly, before the doors closed behind him. 

“Makoto.” Sousuke greeted him immediately, and Makoto turned to see him sprawled across his bed, as he usually was these days. His body was sheathed in water-looking robes, a bluish grey, that rippled and shimmered with just the slightest of movements. The bands around his arms were silver today, and two speckled hawk feathers hung from his ears, framing his jawline. 

He smiled that tingle-indulging smile, and stood to approach Makoto. His warm hands came up to cup his face, and he gently led their mouths together in a soft kiss. Makoto couldn’t suppress a ragged sigh. 

He would probably never get over how breath-taking Sousuke was. 

With carefully calculated fingers, Sousuke maneuvered the medical bag off of Makoto’s shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. He wrapped his arms around Makoto and held him tight. Makoto smiled against his lips. His own hands moved around Sousuke’s neck. Sousuke tasted of moonlight. 

“I missed you,” Sousuke whispered, tearing the lips apart to place a kiss on Makoto’s jaw. 

“I missed you, too.” Even if it had only been a couple of days since they'd seen each other last, Makoto's voice shook with the truth of the words. 

“Don’t leave again, okay?” 

Makoto smiled. “Never leave? I don’t know, Sousuke, I think I’d get pretty bored with just sitting around your quarters all day.” 

“You could take baths. I’d bring you a thousand kittens to entertain you. And a scribe to tell you stories,” Sousuke said softly. Makoto couldn’t help wincing. The story of Ami resurfaced and grabbed at his attention, and the anger in his stomach wriggled a little more madly. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how the previous sultan had bought her loyalty… Sousuke paused. He shifted to meet Makoto’s eyes, his eyebrows coming together in concern. “What’s wrong? You went all tense.” 

“I-It’s nothing,” Makoto muttered. 

Sousuke frowned. His embrace loosened, and he leaned their foreheads together, tilting his head so their noses brushed. “Makoto, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” 

“No! W-well, yes, I guess…” 

“What did I say? If talking about staying with me made you angry, I’m sorry-” 

“It’s not that,” Makoto said, although it kind of was. The thought of staying with Sousuke was almost miraculous, but Makoto couldn’t shake the story of Ami from his mind. Rin and Gou’s mother... He paused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry. It’s just something my mother said earlier. I’m probably just being paranoid.” 

“Makoto, what did your mother say?” Sousuke asked. His voice was light, almost playful, but his intelligent eyes had taken on a hint of distress. “Does she not like me, or something?”

“You could say that…” Makoto let out a nervous burst of laughter. “She’s just, um, not as accepting of the higher class as my father is.”

“Ah.” Sousuke nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t seem surprised. “Well, the aristocrats of Iwatobi are anything but fair and respectable. I can’t say I blame her.” 

“Me neither,” Makoto said honestly. He gave a small, weak smile. “But it’s still a little frightening, to hear from my own mother. It’s like a reminder that you and I will never really be equals, I guess.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sousuke said, his voice catching a little with hurt. His mouth turned down in a frown. “Of course we’re equals. Makoto, if I ever treated you as anything lesser-” 

“No, no, you’re wonderful!” Makoto burst, panic rising in his chest like an uncomfortable bubble. He moved his hands to cup Sousuke’s face, momentarily bringing him in for a tiny kiss. “That’s not what I meant. Of course we’re equals, but that doesn’t mean that everybody else sees it that way. Sousuke, it doesn’t matter how long we’re together or how many times I come up to see you. I'm still just a healer in the eyes of everyone here. I was meant to serve, not to speak.”

“Rin doesn’t see you that way,” Sousuke protested weakly, but Makoto could see in his eyes that he knew there was truth behind Makoto’s words. 

“I know he doesn’t. But everybody else does,” Makoto tried for a small smile. “Don’t you think that would bother you, too, if the roles were switched?” 

“No,” Sousuke insisted stubbornly, “Not if I was in love with somebody who made it all worth it.” 

“It’s not that simple…” 

“Why not? Why can’t it be that simple?” Sousuke said, his eyes flashing with an almost pleading look. “Makoto, why do we have to care? Why does it matter so much what other people think?” His voice was growing hard. He stepped back from Makoto and shook his head, running his hands through his short hair. “My entire life has been dictated by what people think of me, and trying to win the favor of people I don’t care about. Can’t… can’t we just have this?” He moved his hand inbetween the two of them for emphasis. “This is the first thing I’ve ever had that wasn’t set down before me on a silver platter. We both earned the right to be together, didn’t we? So why does everybody else have to matter?” 

A lump was quickly rising in Makoto’s throat. He sighed, and forced his voice to be steady when he spoke. “Because, Sousuke. We’re not the only people on the planet. I have a family, and friends, and you have a duty to Iwatobi. We can’t just say ‘to hell with it’ because we feel like it.” 

“Why not?” Sousuke demanded. 

“Because! That’s not how life works!” Makoto’s voice went an octave higher, “Sousuke, my entire life I’ve been nothing more than a street rat. Just dirt beneath a lord’s shoe. If anybody looked at me, it wasn’t because they actually valued my existence as a person, it was because they were interested in my body. Do you know how that feels? To constantly be aware of unwanted eyes on you, judging you and lessening you because of some stupid birthright?” A horrible sob was making his throat tighten. “Do you know how it feels to fall in love with somebody who’s practically a god compared to you? Do you know what it’s like to realize that no matter how he treats you, no matter how gentle and loving and perfect he is, he will always be seen as superior?” He grasped at his hair, and turned away, unable to face Sousuke any longer. 

A silence fell between them. Makoto felt his heartbeat in his ears as he waited for some sort of reaction. When none came, Makoto prayed for something, anything. He wanted Sousuke to scream back, to shout and fight and prove him wrong. That’s what Sousuke had always been good at, wasn’t it? His beautiful smile and alluring voice had contradicted everything Makoto had ever known, in the best way possible. 

...So why wasn’t he contradicting this?

Makoto wished that this was all over. He wanted desperately to turn around and leap into Sousuke’s arms, apologizing and kissing him silly, in hopes of taking back what he had said. Guilt swept over him. He was being selfish, like a child throwing a tantrum. Sousuke had only ever been good to him, and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Makoto’s anger. 

“Makoto,” Sousuke whispered, causing Makoto to flinch. “Please. Please look at me.” 

Slowly, hesitantly, Makoto turned on his heels. He forced himself to meet Sousuke’s gaze. The sharp pain in those turquoise eyes was almost unbearable. Every fiber of Makoto’s being writhed at seeing him like that. 

But, even though his hurt was evident, Sousuke looked just as beautiful as he always did. 

“I don’t know what any of that is like,” he said. He lifted a hand to run through his hair, sighing a shallow sigh. “I probably will never know. And I’m sorry for that, for never being able to fully understand why this is so hard for you. I really am.” He paused before continuing, his deep voice catching with suppressed emotion. “But Makoto, this is never going to work if you care more about what others think that you do me.” 

“I-I know,” Makoto mumbled. He clenched his teeth and hissed through them, frustrated tears coming to his eyes. They spilled over his flushed cheeks, hot and sticky. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Dammit…” 

Sousuke flinched. He looked as if he wanted to move forward and embrace Makoto, and Makoto wished he would. He regretted ever saying anything, and wished he could take it all back. But the words were already gone, out of his reach, like a piece of cloth taken by the winds of the desert. He swallowed, and prayed for his tears to stop. Sousuke had seen him cry before, but he couldn’t help feeling humiliated. This whole thing was humiliating, if he was honest with himself… 

“I… I think I just need some space,” he heard himself say. He instantly regretted those words, too. He didn't need space. He just needed to get his priorities straight and act like an adult. 

“S-Space?” Sousuke echoed. The hurt in his voice was enough to make Makoto’s heart stop. 

“Not forever. I just need to think. Everything’s so overwhelming right now.” 

“Makoto-” 

“Good bye,” Makoto choked. He swept up his bag and hurried to the door, shutting it behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

“Nagisa, Makoto’s sad…” Ran’s stage whisper caught Makoto’s attention. He paused from lifting a woven basket of barley, and strained to listen, his heart thumping in his throat. The twins had agreed to help with the chores, and he had sent them around the house to go fetch another basket. Nagisa must’ve been approaching, because his familiar voice could be heard around the corner with the twins. 

“Yeah, I think he is, too,” Nagisa replied, in a slightly lower voice. Makoto had to keep very still and listen very hard to pick out his words. 

“Why?” Ren squeaked, “Why is Makoto so sad?” 

“...I think he misses his friend at the palace.” 

“The one I’m marrying?” Ran asked. 

Nagisa let out a soft chuckle. Makoto had told him about the encounter at his family’s shop, about Ran and Ren’s antics and Sousuke adorable reaction to it all. “Yes, that one.” 

“But he’s really scary, isn’t he?” Ren asked, “And he didn’t look like he was Makoto’s friend.” 

“He is. Makoto’s very fond of him, and I think they got into a fight, or something,” Nagisa said. Makoto’s chest tightened. He let out a ragged sigh, feeling the familiar sensation that he had been feeling for the past week - a painful throb in his heart. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his friends, much to their frustration, but they knew something was up. It had only taken Nagisa a matter of hours to figure out what had happened, and Haru had known without either of them uttering a single word. Rei had been slower to catch Makoto’s unhappiness, but when he did, he had pestered Makoto like a concerned mother, offering his assistance and wisdom. Makoto turned them all away, plastering on that stupid fake smile and assuring all of them that he just needed space. They hadn’t pushed him, but Makoto was running out of time. Before long, Nagisa or Rei would intervene and suffocate him with their questions and attempt for comfort. A cold ball of ice had lodged itself in Makoto’s stomach, impossible to thaw, even in the endless heat of the boiling desert. 

Sousuke had summoned for Makoto every day for the past week. He wasn’t even trying to pretend that it was about his shoulder anymore. The letters were the same as they always were- inviting Makoto to the palace to tend to the wound of the general - but even Ai the silver-haired messenger had caught on that something else was going on here. Never before had Sousuke summoned for Makoto so frequently, almost desperately. With every delivery, Ai gave Makoto a meaningful, sympathetic look. Makoto had been getting that look so often these days that it made his stomach turn with frustration. He was drowning in pitiful stares. It was as if the entire city knew, and was judging him. Not only for being with the general of Iwatobi, but for turning away and refusing to face him. The city itself was a heavy, breathing being, crushing Makoto flat with the constant pressure of what had happened. His skin constantly burned with the gazes of others, gazes that weren’t there. 

He hated it. He wanted it to stop. 

He wanted to go back to the way things were, when the feeling of people judging and degrading him had been silenced by Sousuke’s company… But now that he had exposed it to himself, it was everywhere. Fresh like the smell of blood on his clothes, impossible to scrub away. All he could do was let it set and crust over, and hope that it would disappear over time. 

“Makoto, the general has sent another letter,” his father said, on the seventh day of Makoto’s solitude. He crouched down to Makoto’s eye level, where he sat on the ground sorting herbs, and held the familiar slip of crisp paper up for his son to see. His eyebrows drew together in a concerned look. “Do you want me to go in your place, again?” 

“Yes, please,” Makoto said blankly. He couldn’t face Sousuke now. Not yet. The humiliation of meeting those eyes that he adored so much would probably boil him alive. 

“...Alright. But he’s been asking about you, you know.” 

Makoto just stared at the herbs in his hands, pursing his lips. He tried his best to look detached. “Oh? Well, I’m honored that he would show an interest in me,” he replied, trying for one of his trademark smiles. The smile that had assured everybody that he was okay, up until this point. It was his most powerful tool of defense, and it was failing for the first time in his life. Stars… Did Sousuke really have such an impact on him?

His father’s brown eyes hardened, but he spoke with the same lightness as before. 

“Yes. He says that he misses your softer hands, that mine are much too calloused compared to yours. He also says he misses making you turn pink from his flattery, and listening to your stories of your travels.” His father cracked a smile. “Compared to you, son, I’m boring to our pampered General Yamazaki.” 

That definitely sounded like Sousuke… Makoto could practically envision his teasing smirk, could practically hear the playful rumble of his deep voice. Makoto’s skin prickled with loss as he recalled how Sousuke’s fingers always felt on his skin. How they cupped his cheek, or arms, or throat. He held Makoto as if he were the most precious thing in the entire world: firmly and tightly, so as not to drop and shatter him, but gently enough that Makoto wouldn’t crack under the pressure of his hands.

And Makoto had held Sousuke like he’d never been allowed to hold anyone before - with all of his strength. Sousuke complained sometimes that Makoto practically squished him when they embraced, but Makoto ignored his protests and only held on more tightly. He’d never been able to hold anyone like this. 

“Makoto.” His father spoke again, and Makoto flinched, his grip on the jar of parsley tightening. He forced himself to meet his father’s eyes. 

“...Did General Yamazaki…” his father began, but hesitated. Silence fell between them for a moment before he spoke again. “General Yamazaki didn’t… hurt you, in any way, did he?”

“Hurt me,” Makoto echoed, not fully understanding.

“He’s never taken advantage of you, I mean. General Yamazaki has never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do? He’s never touched you in a way you didn’t want to be touched?” 

“N-no!” Makoto felt his face flush with horror. His father’s expression immediately relaxed. 

“Well, I’m glad. General Yamazaki has always seemed like a good man to me, but your recent sulking was beginning to make me think otherwise,” he said. He eyed his son. “So, if it’s not that, then you two had a falling out of sorts, yes?” 

Makoto winced. “I-I suppose…” 

“So you’ve been avoiding him,” his father said, lifting his eyebrows. “I’m surprised, Makoto. You two seemed to be getting along well, and you’ve never exactly been the one to argue, much less with the general of the entire city.” 

“No, I suppose I haven’t,” Makoto agreed. He laughed weakly, and focused his attention on sorting through the herbs once again. He could feel his father watching him, and imagined that the gears in his head were clicking and turning with curiosity. 

“So… Are you going to tell me the reason you’ve been avoiding one of the most powerful men in the city like a child?” he asked. His voice was gentle, but the words were like a knife through Makoto’s chest. He flinched, and forced himself to meet his father’s eyes. His father blinked lazily at him, as if they conversing about ginger or rosemary. “General Yamazaki has been practically begging for you to come back. I don’t know what you did to him, son, but that boy is very desperate indeed for your company.” 

“How flattering,” Makoto said as coolly as he could, but his voice caught. His father must’ve heard it, because his expression settled into something that resembled understanding. He sighed, and placed a warm hand on his son’s shoulder. 

“Makoto, I love you. You’re my son, and I’ll always be proud of you for your accomplishments. You’ve seen more of the world than I could ever imagined, and you’ve spread your kindness and intelligence to places I couldn’t dream of seeing. But, to be completely honest with you, you’re acting like a tiny child.” 

Makoto winced. He couldn’t suppress a startled laugh. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he admitted. 

“I’m glad you agree. Now stop it. You’re scaring your poor mother to bits,” his father said, sighing. “I’ve decided not to voice my suspicions about the relationship between you and General Yamazaki to her, but she’ll catch on eventually, and this little phase of sulking you’re going through isn’t going to help.” 

“A-ah,” Makoto mumbled, his chest tightening uncomfortably as his father looked at him with too much understanding in his eyes. He shifted and felt his face flush. So his father had known a thing or two about him and Sousuke… 

“That’s not the only reason I’m telling you to swallow your pride, though,” his father said, and when Makoto looked up, there was only seriousness in those aged brown eyes. “As your father, I’m telling you that you are strong enough to get past whatever the hell is happening, but as a healer, I’m genuinely worried that this little bicker between the two of you will only damage General Yamazaki’s health further.” 

Makoto stiffened. “What do you mean?” 

“Without your guidance, he’s been… stubborn, about letting his shoulder be treated. The sultan warned me a couple sunrises ago that he’s begun to furiously train again, regardless of what I tell him. I can’t be sure if the reason behind this is because of you, or because of his duties, but he’s been very out of character.” His father sighed. “He probably has the idiotic idea that he’ll bring you back by inflicting pain on himself.” 

“T-that’s ridiculous!” Makoto burst, his heartbeat rising to settle into his throat. “Surely he isn’t that stupid!” 

“You’d be surprised what love can do,” His father replied, smiling an innocent smile. He clapped Makoto on the shoulder again and stood, disappearing around the corner before Makoto could utter a word. Makoto felt himself staring after him, slack-jawed. He felt his face turn scarlet, and looked back at the herbs in his hands, frustration coursing through him when he realized his hands were quivering. The tightness in his chest loosened somewhat, and he felt a familiar stab of annoyance for Sousuke. 

That idiot… Did he seriously think hurting himself more would fix all of this?

He wanted nothing more than to run to the palace and confront Sousuke. He wanted to shout and scream, and tie that stupid boy to a support beam so he could never try anything so idiotic again. He wanted to keep Sousuke still somehow, still enough to tend to him and heal his wounds. He wanted to see that silly, teasing smile, to kiss those sweet lips, to whisper sweet nothings in his ear and make sure he was always comfortable and rested. 

Guilt swept over him suddenly. This was all his fault. If he had just kept his mouth shut about his own petty worries… None of this was Sousuke’s doing. It wasn’t his fault that he had been born an aristocrat, anymore that it was Makoto’s intentions to be born a commoner. Makoto had never dreamed that he would be capable of hurting someone like Sousuke, but he undeniably had. 

“Dammit…” Makoto cursed under his breath. Why did this have to bother him so? Why couldn’t he be confident and passionate, like Haru, Nagisa, or Rei? Why did the weight of those wealthier and crueller than him have to burden him so? Nagisa, after a life of living on the streets, barely scraping by, had warped that wealth and cruelty to his own advantage. He was one of the most success dancers in Iwatobi now, because of his determination and abilities. And Rei had discarded the idea a long time ago that commoners couldn’t be scholars. 

Was this how Haru felt, all those years ago, when he left? Makoto had never been able to understand, then. It had seemed odd, foolish even, to run from the truth of their birth right. 

But now, Makoto thought he understood what it felt like to be so close to somebody, but still be divided by what felt like worlds. The city of Iwatobi was like the current of a twisting river, always carrying whispers and secrets and standards that Makoto was expected to follow. Until meeting Sousuke, he had allowed himself to be carried by the current. He had ignored and avoided the cruel eyes and greedy hands of the people who controlled the city, and had focused on protecting himself, his friends, and his family. He had accepted the angered whispers about a nobleman’s new whore, or new plaything. The people who dared go against the order of the city were seen as mindless animals, creatures whose greed could not be controlled by their place in society. Makoto had looked forward to a life of simplicity. He expected to grow old with the weight of the aristocrats still hanging over his head, like the ever-burning sun of the desert. Why bother fighting the inevitable, when you could ride the current? 

But then Sousuke had wandered into his life. Sousuke, that beautiful, wonderful mistake that had turned everything Makoto knew on it’s head. He’d fallen in love with that intelligent smile, those careful hands, the kindness that nobody else could see from outside the palace walls. He had drowned in the oasis of Sousuke’s eyes, and had forgotten the weight of the people above him. 

How can you recognize a burden when it’s standing right in front of you, instead of being loaded onto your back? 

“Makoto?” a gentle voice snapped Makoto out of his thoughts, as Nagisa approached from around the corner. He wore purple silk today, the color of Rei’s violet eyes. His wrists and ankles clacked with golden bands, and a veil was draped over his rosy eyes, that were outlined with black pencil. His tan arms, cheeks, and stomach shone with sweat - he must’ve just arrived from a performance. His soft, boyish expressions only softened further when his gaze fell on Makoto. 

“Hi. How’s it going?” he asked, as if Makoto were a child. Makoto couldn’t help frowning in disturbance. He’d had enough pitying looks in the last week alone to last a lifetime. 

“Okay. I was just… thinking.” 

“Ah. What about?” Nagisa plopped down beside him, the material of his cloak squeaking against the soft sand. Makoto hesitated before answering. 

“...Sousuke,” he replied honestly. 

Nagisa nodded. He didn’t seem surprised. “How’s that going?” 

“I don’t know,” Makoto said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. He lifted his hands to rub his eyes and groaned. “I’m not sure what I should do, Nagisa. My father just told me that Sousuke’s stressing his shoulder again…” 

Nagisa winced. “Wow, what an idiot.” 

“I know!” Makoto said, a pitiful laugh rising to his throat, “Does he really think stressing his injury is going to solve anything?” 

“Maybe… Maybe that’s how he copes,” Nagisa offered. He gave a weak smile. “Maybe he’s confused. Maybe he misses you, and thinks that hurting himself will bring you back.” 

“W-well, that’s stupid!” 

“Is it, though?” Nagisa demanded, his eyebrows drawing together in concern and insistence, “Don’t you think you’d do the same, if the roles were switched? Makoto, General Yamazaki doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t understand the problem with being divided, like you and I do. But he wants to take care of you, and he wants to talk to you. He wants to make sure you’re okay, and he’s probably worried sick about you… Wouldn’t you be, too?” 

“Of course I would,” Makoto said. His voice caught. He laughed a cruel, hollow laugh. “But I wouldn’t go out of my way to hurt myself because of that.” 

“Makoto.” Nagisa’s expression turned cold, and it looked unnatural on his usually beaming face. “You know that’s not fair. Don’t justify your own pain and then mock his.” 

The words were like a knife through Makoto’s chest. He inhaled sharply, and guilt immediately slapped him across the face. He fell silent, and swallowed. The action felt like trying to swallow steaming sand. “...You’re right. Stars above, your right.” He shook his head and sighed. “Nagisa, when did you get so smart?” 

“I’ve always been smart,” Nagisa said, and his smile returned in the slightest. “That’s why Rei likes me so much. That, and my incredible rear end.”

Makoto couldn't help a weak laugh. It felt awkward, like he was breathing smoke. Nagisa smiled sadly at the sound. He leaned forward to take Makoto’s hand, and clutched it tightly. Makoto looked down at their hands - Nagisa’s delicate, short, elegant fingers, and Makoto’s own tan, long, and calloused ones. The difference was undeniable, but all Makoto could think about was how well Nagisa understood him. The both of them were experienced in the act of putting on a smile for others, on being the cheerful ones that always strived to make the people around them happy. Makoto’s throat caught. He pulled Nagisa into an embrace, which caused a surprised yelp from Nagisa. The dancer relaxed almost immediately, however, and the two held each other tightly. Makoto’s mind went back to their childhood, when he had been the one to comfort Nagisa. He’d held him tight while the tiny blonde had wailed over stepping on a bug, or getting sand in his sandals, or having his hair get whipped furiously by the wind. Just little things… And now that same little boy was holding Makoto so tightly that Makoto felt as if he were going to be absorbed into his comforting warmth. 

When they separated, Makoto inwardly cursed when he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Nagisa held him by the shoulders, his rosy eyes glistening with kindness for one of his best friends. The tightness in Makoto’s chest loosened somewhat, leaving room to breathe. 

“I know you love him, Makoto,” Nagisa said, “So do me a favor and don’t screw this up. There’s a cranky, very handsome general somewhere whose suffering because he misses you, and you’re not going to get anything done if you stay down here.”

“I know…” 

Nagisa supplied a small smile. “It’s hard.” 

“It really is,” Makoto agreed. 

“You don’t have to figure this out immediately, you know. Don’t be afraid to take your time,” Nagisa said, as if he were some sort of expert, “But please, go knock some sense into him before he kills himself. His arm is probably going to fall off if you two keep this up.”

“D-don’t joke,” Makoto said, laughing nervously. 

“Sorry.” Nagisa winced, and smiled an apologetic smile, before regaining a somewhat serious expression. “Makoto, you’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to feel pressured. How do you think Haru felt, all those years ago? I’m not telling you to do what he did, but just don’t feel like you owe it to anybody to be okay with this. Especially not to Sousuke. If he really thought that you two were going to get on just fine with no strings attached, then he’s an idiot, because that’s not how a love like this works. But don’t confuse healing with avoiding. Sousuke needs you right now. The deep, emotional stuff can wait for when you’re both stable and willing to hear each other out.” 

“Stars, Nagisa,” Makoto laughed, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to take the role of ‘motherly friend’ from me.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m happy where I am, as the irresponsible, adventurous one,” Nagisa teased, winking. “But sometimes even you need a motherly friend.” 

“Well, I’m grateful,” Makoto said. He sighed, and shook his head. “You’re right. The next time he summons me, I’ll comply…” 

Nagisa beamed. “I’m glad.” 

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air, I suppose,” Makoto said. He flashed Nagisa his most reassuring smile, and stood. “I feel as if I need to breathe something besides herbs for a moment.” 

“Alright. I’ll head back to the studio, in that case,” Nagisa replied. He stood as well, gave Makoto a final embrace, and departed, his silk cloaks billowing out behind him. Sighing, Makoto moved to the back door, and slipped outside, into the cool desert night. 

\---

The silence of Iwatobi at night was comfort in itself. The moon bathed the city in silver moonlight, and the dunes on the horizon, barely peaking over the outer wall, shone like rolling white fabric. The air buzzed with the lullaby of desert insects that had found refuge in the city, and the stars shimmered overhead. They reminded Makoto of small holes in a tarp, shedding light in an otherwise dark envelope of shade. Makoto smiled slightly and closed his eyes, and the tightness in his chest loosened a little more. 

The streets were quiet at night, as they always were. Candles flickered on clay window sills, and the scent of herbs, fruit, and fabric that had been traded mere hours before still kept the musty smell of the sand company. Makoto’s sandals squeaked as he wandered down the familiar winding roads. He closed his eyes and sighed, imagining the bustling crowd, anxious to trade and jest and gossip under the high sun. Everything was so painfully familiar, and it was as if Makoto was walking through a dream. The air swarmed with the ghosts of those he had known as a child, and his heart did a little thump in recognition of the people who had passed while he was travelling. 

He found himself wandering further and further away from home, towards the shining while walls of the palace, that loomed over him. It’s presence was unnerving. Over the past couple of moons, the palace had changed from a symbol of fear to a symbol of comfort and mystery, as Makoto had grown closer with Sousuke. It had become a sanctuary of sorts, a place for Makoto to delve in the fairytale that was Sousuke’s world. He recalled whispers that Sousuke had mumbled in his ear, of how the palace was a star in itself, that shone on the horizon and would lead him home no matter where he was. It had been silly - a gentle tease, a way to urge a kiss from Makoto’s lips at such a poetic thought. But it had its own truth to it. Makoto imagined that, even if he were in the deepest dunes of the red desert, the white palace of Iwatobi would lead him home, somehow. Back to Sousuke, and back to his friends and family. The beauty of it, both on the outside and inside of its walls, would never leave Makoto’s mind… Or so he hoped. 

Makoto suddenly stopped in his tracks and blinked. He glanced around, perplexed to find himself in a dark, narrow alleyway. The shops and stands had dwindled to nothing, and not even the murmur of fabric being teased by the wind kept Makoto company. Frowning thoughtfully, he turned, and followed his own footsteps back to the original street.   
The hot breath of somebody beside him made him jump. Before he could react, something cool and sharp was held against his throat, and a hand snaked around his waist. He gasped, but the action of his throat caused the knife at his neck to draw dig into his skin, and he felt his own sticky blood drip from the tiny wound. He lifted an arm to wrench the knife away from his throat, but an arm snaked around his torso and pinned his own arms to his sides with a surprisingly strong grip. Makoto blinked, panic beginning to well in his chest as he realized that he was undeniably trapped in the grip of a stranger. 

Warm breath tickled the nape of his neck, and Makoto resisted the urge to recoil as he felt his captor lean in to whisper in his ear. He was overcome with a sweet scent - the scent of strawberries, - coming off of the stranger.

This man smelled like a nobleman. 

“Don’t move, unless you want to see your own blood stain the sand, pretty boy,” his captor whispered huskily in his ear. That voice was the voice of a young man. It purred and curled, like silk, and Makoto shivered with revulsion as he was pressed against the body of the stranger. He swallowed, the smell of the blood trickling from his neck mixing with the scent of the man holding a knife to his throat. The arm around his torso loosened, and Makoto bit back a hiss of disgust and alarm as he felt a hand grope his ass through his robes. He had to continually remind himself of the knife pressed against his neck to keep from turning to swing a swift punch. He felt the man purr against his ear again.   
“You really are beautiful, commoner boy. No wonder Yamazaki likes you so. And what a treat, that you left the safety of your home on your own accord. I was afraid I’d have to steal you away, with your family in the next room, but you did me a favor by deciding to take a little stroll.” 

“Y-you followed me?” Makoto mumbled, his voice low and fearful. “Who are you? What do-” 

“Shhh,” the stranger purred, and the knife dug a little deeper. Makoto clenched his teeth in pain. His blood boiled with fear and fury as the stranger’s hand clutched at his ass tighter. “No more talk, okay? You’re going to come quietly, or I’m going to knock you over the head and drag you. And you don’t want that, do you?” 

“Let go of me,” Makoto snarled. He wrenched his hand back and grasped the man’s wrist, forcing those cold fingers off of his body. The man stumbled slightly against him, but he quickly regained himself. Before Makoto could use the moment of weakness to escape, the stranger’s free arms snapped around his torso again like a cord, binding him still. The stranger tutted in his ear. 

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way, then,” he said. Before Makoto could react, the knife left his neck, and something hard and sharp hit him from behind. 

He fell, and the world went dark.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oop it's an evil Kisumi...

Makoto was ripped from unconsciousness suddenly and painfully. 

A dull throb in the back of his head was the first thing to greet him, and he shut his eyes tight, wincing. An involuntary groan escaped through his lips, and he inhaled sharply. The sudden breath came with a mouthful of debris and dust, and he spluttered, realizing with a jolt that he was laying on his side, face half-engulfed in sand. He dared not open his eyes. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle too much sensation at once. 

So, he slowly took in the rest of what his senses could offer. 

His hands were tied behind his back, and his legs were bound at the ankles, by what felt like rough rope. His body felt sticky and hot, and he could smell the sweat and grime coming off of his clothes. His clothes… The comforting, light feeling of his usual robes had been replaced with scratchy cloth, barely covering his thighs and hips. His chest was exposed, and he recoiled into himself, suddenly fearful that somebody would strike at the vulnerable flesh. He brought his knees up to his stomach, curling into a ball. The sand beneath him squeaked and shifted at the movement. 

His eyes still shut tight, Makoto craned his ears to any sign of life surrounding him. He was met with silence, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was in a building, as far as he could tell. There was no sunlight beating down on him, and it was somewhat cool, so he assumed there was a roof over his head. It smelled of dirt, sand, and Makoto’s own sweat. But there was something else… Something familiar, something horrible… He realized with a jolt that it was the faint smell of strawberries. 

The events of the night before came rushing back to him in a river of information. His skin burned where the man had touched him the night before, back in the alley. His head throbbed where he had been struck. Cold fury boiled in his stomach, the same fury that had writhed through his body when the strawberry-scented man had touched him, had put a knife to his throat, had admitted that he’d been watched since the moment he left his family’s shop. The cut on his neck still stung from the cool touch of the blade. He let out a disgusted hiss as he recalled how the man had groped him…

Unable to stand it anymore, Makoto opened his eyes. The world took a moment to clear, and it took another moment to sharpen. It was turned on its side, like Makoto was, and he found himself in a large, empty room, the floor covered in sand, sunlight filtering through a tiny window in the clay walls. It was eerily silent. Makoto wondered where the building was, to not have the sounds of people outside. It must’ve been on the very edge of the city, or in the quarters of the noblemen, where few people dared to roam the streets. The room didn’t look like that of a nobleman, however. The walls were red clay, large cracks snaking up and down them like tendrils of ivy. Maybe it was more physically attractive on the outside, but on the inside, it had the appearance of some of the oldest, poverted buildings in Iwatobi. 

Makoto clenched his teeth and stretched his bound hands, the rope tightened around them not budging at his movement. He awkwardly forced himself onto his back, his hands beneath him, and tried to heave himself up. He failed the first time, his arms too exhausted to push him into a sitting position. He tried again, chest heaving, and let out a wheezy puff of triumph when he managed to sit up. He let his hands and feet sit limply in the sand and tried to regain his breath. The pain in his head caused his ears to ring, and he could feel his heartbeat in the spot where the blow had been directed. He wanted to lift a hand to test the wound, but his arms were bound on together and behind his back, constricting him of any obvious movement. So he bit his lip and tried to steady his mind, recalling the teachings of his father about head trauma. 

He didn’t feel like he had a concussion… The wound felt too limited to the skin of his scalp. The hair there felt sticky with blood, and Makoto assumed that it had been bleeding since the night before. He focused on the perimeter of the place where he felt pain, relieved to find that it wasn’t that big. At least he didn’t have a gaping hole in his head… 

It wasn’t a good sign if it was still bleeding, though. A wound of its size would have stopped by now, but Makoto could still feel the wet warmth of fresh blood clotting his hair. Cursing under his breath, he looked around for anything he could do to put pressure on the wound. He was almost tempted to bury his head in the sand, but the little particles would surely get into the cut and get infected. And that was the last thing Makoto needed. 

Awkwardly, he brought his knees up to his face and grasped the rough cloth he was wearing between his teeth. He yanked, and the fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Makoto with a strip of material in his mouth. He scowled around it, wishing he had thought this through. He had to figure out a way to get the cloth to the wound, so he could safely apply pressure and hopefully stop the bleeding… 

“Ah, you’re awake.” A familiar purr caught Makoto off guard, and he jolted, the strip of fabric falling from between his teeth. A wooden door in front of him opened, and a young man slipped through, smiling at Makoto as if they were old friends. 

He was undeniably attractive. Pink, naturally wispy hair that fell into his heart-shaped face with ease, framing a pair of intelligent, mischievous eyes that put the stone of amethyst to shame. A fond smile played across his lips. He wore the clothes of a nobleman, a thick, royal purple shawl, decorated with looping golden patterns, was thrown over his shoulders as if it were a second thought. Two large bronze hoops hung from his ears, matching the curling beaded toes of his slippers. He regarded Makoto like a wolf would a lamb, his eyes sharpening with a cunning expression that Makoto didn’t like in the slightest. 

“The sleeping beauty awakens,” he said, almost teasingly. Makoto could only blink at him, confusion and anger making his stomach twist and boil. He tried to scoot away when the man approached him, but his bound limbs refused to cooperate, and he ended up wriggling like a desperate worm. The man watched him struggle with a sympathetic look, his eyebrows coming together. “You’re going to hurt yourself, darling. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” 

Makoto opened his mouth to shoot back a stinging reply, but all that escaped his lips was a dry croak. He spluttered for words. It felt as if scorching sand had been poured down his throat. 

“Don’t try to talk, darling. Not until you drink something,” the man said kindly, his own voice like honey against Makoto’s ears. He crouched down at his prisoner’s side, his unnaturally sweet scent engulfing Makoto and making him gag, and held out a canteen. Makoto gave him an incredulous look. The man laughed. “Here, tilt your head back, and I’ll pour it into your mouth.” 

Makoto just narrowed his eyes at him, which brought another laugh from the man. 

“It’s not poisoned, I promise. Darling, if I wanted to kill you, don’t you think I would’ve, by now?” 

That was a good point. And Makoto’s throat felt like a desert… 

Grudgingly, he tilted his head back and parted his lips, allowing the man to pour water into his mouth. The water was cool and sweet, and Makoto was pretty sure he’d never tasted anything so good. He found himself leaning forward for more, ignoring the man’s amused chuckles at his desperation. All that mattered was quenching his thirst. 

“See? Not poisoned at all,” the man said, smiling a warm smile. He shook the last couple of drops onto Makoto’s eager tongue, before retracting the canteen and fastening it again to his belt. He then reached beneath his vest and pulled out a loaf of bread. Makoto’s vision tunnelled when he saw it, and his mouth immediately began to water. The bread was a perfect golden, its crust crumbly and easily broken in the man’s hands. He watched in utter rapture as the young man broke off a piece of the loaf. He snatched it away with his teeth when it was brought up to his lips, and didn’t waste time chewing. The young man grinned in delight, and he continued feeding Makoto like an old dog, a childish smile on his face. Makoto could ignore that, though. His wailing stomach was slowly beginning to settle with some food in his belly. It was a huge disappointment when the loaf dwindled to nothing, and the young man wiped the crumbs from his hands. 

“I bet you feel better now, huh?” he asked. He tilted his head, his pink curls shifting with the movement. “Nothing like a little food and water to wake you up.” 

Makoto didn’t reply. He returned to eyeing the man, thoroughly perplexed as to what was happening. This man had knocked him unconscious, groped him, bound him, and then proceeded to give him good food and water. It didn’t make much sense, as far as Makoto was concerned. 

“Who are you?” he croaked, the words feeling like stones dropping from his lips. The man smiled. He stood, and held out his hands, as if he’d just given a grand performance.

“Lord Shigino Kisumi, at your service,” he purred, flicking a strand of hair from his violet gaze. “The devilishly handsome advisor of the sultan himself. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“N-no,” Makoto mumbled, although now that he thought about it, he did recognize this man. He was often present in the group of older men that trailed after Rin like a pack of lost puppies, always fighting to be at Rin’s side as they walked. Makoto hadn’t recognized him in such lavish clothing. The advisors of the sultan often wore huge white robes, washing out any other color. 

The realization hit Makoto like a sandstorm. 

“W-what do you want from me?” he demanded, disgusted with how his voice shook. 

“Mm, you’re not very quick, are you?” Lord Shigino purred. He held a finger to his lips and tilted his head. “Did you really think your little affair with General Yamazaki would go unnoticed? He hasn’t exactly been discreet about it. If I’m completely honest with you, I’m not all that surprised. Yamazaki always had a fondness for people of the lower classes. I always blamed it on his ability to find entertainment through toying with those bent on serving him, but with your arrival, I’ve had my doubts.” 

Makoto felt his features harden. “General Yamazaki would never-” 

“...Would never hurt you?” Lord Shigino cut him off with an almost pitying smile. “Well, you’re a street-rat, but that doesn’t seem to stop you from having an awfully big head. You really think you’re that important to him?” 

Makoto didn’t reply. He forced himself to curl his lips in, instead of screaming obscene curses and throwing himself at the cruel man looking down at him. The tightness in his chest caused his heart to beat against his ribs. He glared up at Lord Shigino with a scowl that would make Sousuke proud, his stomach boiling with a new hatred. 

Of course Makoto was different. 

He was all too aware of Sousuke’s past with other men and women, but he’d managed to forget. And Sousuke had made it easy to forget. With his warm kisses, and the way he held Makoto so gently, as if he were afraid he’d shatter him. Or his teasing smirks, or the way his hair stuck up in all directions in the morning, like the ruffled feathers of a desert owl. Makoto’s heart never failed to do an exhilarated skip when he was flashed that sleepy smile, or when he touched Makoto’s cheek delicately with his knuckles, wiping away a bit of sand that Makoto had carried in with him. Makoto would carry a smile home with him when he remembered the way Sousuke pulled faces over Rin’s head, sacrificing his dignity to probe out a grin. 

Makoto exhaled sharply as a wave of grief swept over him. 

Stars… He’d never missed Sousuke more. 

“Aw, that’s cute,” Lord Shigino purred, as if reading Makoto’s mind, “You really do love him, don’t you? Poor thing.” 

Makoto’s gaze snapped onto him. He curled his lip in a snarl. 

“Release me immediately,” he snapped, his voice dripping with poison. 

“Or what? Are you going to wriggle over and grab my ankles?” Lord Shigino chortled. 

“Release me, or I swear to the stars, I will make your life a living hell,” Makoto hissed. The words felt foreign on his tongue, but they burned with meaning. If he ever found a way out of this, he’d make this horrible man sorry for ever touching him like he had, or for ever trying to cross Sousuke. This entire situation stank of treason, and Makoto swore to himself that he’d end whatever had started this. 

Lord Shigino pursed his lips. He didn’t seem impressed with Makoto’s threat. 

“Hm. You’ve got a bit of an attitude, don’t you, darling?” he cooed, as if Makoto were a delicate pony, “That’s very interesting. I always thought Yamazaki liked his lovers submissive. But maybe a street-rat with fire caught his attention. It’s certainly catching mine…” 

In a flurry of bright fabric, Lord Shigino was on his knees in front of Makoto, a hand flashing out to grasp Makoto’s face and pull him close. Makoto hissed. He tried to pull back, but the lord’s fingers dug firmly into his cheeks, forcing their gazes to lock. His skin burned where Lord Shigino touched him. 

“I’m almost tempted to keep you for myself,” Lord Shigino said, biting his lip. He regarded Makoto with lowered eyelashes. “You’re very pretty, for a street-rat. I’ve never been one to indulge myself with peasants, but I might make an exception for you. You’re bound to be a pleasant little treat, if Yamazaki’s kept you around for so long.” 

“Let go of me,” Makoto hissed. His blood boiled with fury as he met that amethyst gaze. 

“Mm, it all sounds like a fairytale, doesn’t it?” Lord Shigino hummed, ignoring his protests. He tilted his head, his blonde curls rippling across his forehead. “Like the old desert stories my grandmother used to tell me. A general and a healer… True love, separated by a devilishly handsome trickster and the walls of their own beloved city.” His grin widened. “Maybe I’ll keep you around to tell me stories. You’ve got a nice voice, and very expressive green eyes. I could keep you in my chambers, and you could sing me lullabies and tell me bedtime stories. Doesn’t that sound nice? Better than what Yamazaki did with you, I’m sure. Your stories would be better than this one, wouldn’t they? You seem smart enough to think of your own. And, to be honest with you darling, I’m growing awfully bored with these romantic dramas.” 

“Shut. Up.” Makoto snapped. He wrenched his face out of Lord Shigino’s grasp, and pulled against his restraints desperately. He’d never experienced the urge to strangle someone like this before. Lord Shigino tutted at him. 

“Now, now. That’s no way to treat your host. Especially not when I have such big plans for you.” 

“Plans?” Makoto echoed, narrowing his eyes. He watched as Lord Shigino straightened, his robes moving like water around him. “What plans? What are going to do with me?” 

“Nothing too bad. Don’t you worry,” Lord Shigino said. He held his finger to his lips, as if sharing a precious secret. “You’ve travelled the desert, yes? Probably seen the world?” 

“H-how do you know that?” 

“Like I said. I’ve been watching you.” Lord Shigino smirked. “I’m sure you’ve witnessed some incredible things on your journeys. How would you like to see more?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Makoto hissed, frustration bubbling in his chest. 

“No need to grow impatient with me. In a couple days, you’ll be out of this dusty little room, and you’ll get to stretch your legs and see the sun and all that. In fact, I’ve hired a few tradesmen to take you far away, to some other foreign kingdom. You’ll be in good hands, I promise. That is, of course, as long as my tradesmen don’t go against my wishes and sell you as a slave.” Lord Shigino pursed his lips and shook his head. “But that probably won’t happen. I’ve already made handsome arrangements with a lord from a neighboring kingdom. He’ll take very good care of you. Better than General Yamazaki, I’m sure.” 

Makoto’s chest tightened. He blinked up at Lord Shigino in horror, his stomach writhing. “You’re selling me?” 

“Don’t act so surprised, darling. You’re a peasant, after all,” Lord Shigino replied with a smirk. 

“Why?” Makoto demanded, leaning forward and ignoring the pain from the ropes around his wrists and ankles, “Why are you doing this? What could you possibly have to gain?” 

Lord Shigino shrugged. “This kingdom is in tatters. You should know that better than anyone, being from the scum of the streets. The advisors before me were fools for appointing such a young sultan with no training, and General Yamazaki only earned his title through personal connections. With an injured shoulder, no less. It’s all coming down, piece by piece. I’m just… helping it along.” Lord Shigino turned his back on Makoto, waltzing toward the door. He flicked his rosy hair away from his face and sighed. He stopped before the exit to continue. “Why wait, when I can just make things easier for everybody? If I can help the flaws in Iwatobi crumble away to reveal a bright new horizon, then I won’t hesitate to take that opportunity. You may not have the mental capability to feel a sense of duty to your kingdom, but I do. I’m done watching my people suffer at the hands of inexperienced hooligans. Eliminating those hooligans through their weaknesses is how things will first go about being solved. I’m dreadfully sorry you had to get tangled up in all of this, but you really shouldn’t take it too personally.” 

He flashed Makoto a cold smile before slipping out of the room. 

“It’s just politics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awful. It's been so long, and life's gotten in the way, and UGH. I'm sorry. ^^; Welp, the next chapter will be from Sousuke's perspective, so that's fun!


	13. Chapter 13

Sunlight cascading over Sousuke’s face like a mask is what woke him. 

He turned away from the harsh warmth, burying his nose into the velvet cushions, and exhaling pointedly. His skin burned under the sunlight from his window, but he didn’t have the energy to roll completely back into the comfort of shade. 

Makoto would draw the curtains, soon. Makoto would reappear from the bathing chambers, smiling blissfully, and save him from the horrible noon light. Makoto would marvel at Sousuke’s view and wonder out loud why Sousuke hated to have his curtains open. And Sousuke would reply that the sun was a cocky ass, and there was only room for one of those in his chambers. And Makoto would laugh his charming, feather-light laugh at that, and replace the garish sunlight with his own warm voice and gentle kisses. 

Sousuke waited patiently for that all to happen. But it didn’t, and his skin begin to boil under the sunlight that wasn’t being prevented. He tried to remain ignorant of what had been eating him alive for days - Makoto’s voice, conflicted and desperate, ringing through his chambers. The tears that had fallen from Makoto’s breath-taking green eyes like shimmering, forlorn crystals, dropping on Sousuke’s rug and turning the material dark. Just the thought made Sousuke’s heart clench painfully. 

His eyes had been the first thing he’d fallen in love with. Upon seeing him for the first time, Sousuke had fought to keep his breath, immediate awe coursing through him when he took in that thin, handsome face, tan skin, cinnamon hair, and careful fingers. But his eyes had pierced Sousuke like an arrow. They were so striking, yet tentative, and carried an expanse of green color that would never exist in the desert that Sousuke was used to. They were refreshing and lively, a blooming bud in a scorched wasteland. 

It was so foreign, to be stricken like this over some stranger’s eyes. Sousuke had seen many beautiful people before, but had never experienced such a strange and sudden feeling of… affection. As if he knew this pretty healer already, or as if they were old friends seeing each other in a new light for the first time. That was absurd, though. Sousuke had never seen this person before. He definitely would’ve remembered, if he had. 

If Makoto’s father hadn’t been there on that first day, their relationship might’ve been very different. Sousuke had desperately fought the urge to carry Makoto straight to bed because he liked Makoto’s father. Tachibana was a good man, who’d taken care of him for a while, now. It would be unfair to him to act so recklessly with his son. So Sousuke had contained himself, entertaining his attention with Makoto’s little quirks and habits. He focused on those captivating eyes, completely falling in love with how they shyly looked away or boldly met his own. There was no in between. 

A slight groan escaped Sousuke’s lips. He missed those eyes so much. It had only been a week since Makoto had begun avoiding him, but it felt as if Sousuke was being engulfed again with bland, lifeless desert. 

Makoto’s words were still fresh in his mind, like a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. Seeing those eyes well up with tears… Those gorgeous green eyes, that were so alive and expressive that they made Sousuke’s heart beat a little faster, as if making sure he were still alive himself… 

‘Do you know how it feels to fall in love with somebody who’s practically a god compared to you?’ 

Sousuke replayed that question over and over again in his head. The idea that he could be a god compared to Makoto was ridiculous. Hell, it was ridiculous no matter who he compared himself to. He’d made so many horrible mistakes. He’d killed so many people in his short career as a general, and he would kill so many more. It was undeniable. No matter how easy Makoto made it to forget, the fact of the matter was that his duty was to protect and harm. And he was pretty good at it. That’s what had spurred his injury in the first place - an uncontrollable need to conquer and defend. There was no possible way that Sousuke was a god compared to Makoto. 

With that in mind, he’d been training viciously since that night. Maybe because that’s the only way he knew how to forget, or maybe to prove some sort of stupid point. Whatever the reason, his shoulder never stopped stinging. He ignored Tachibana’s protests and continued, entertaining the ridiculous notion that Makoto would come back after a while and fix him, like he had before. The pain didn’t matter, because Makoto had to come back. And when he did, only then Sousuke would allow himself to heal. 

The pain wasn’t all bad. When he wasn’t training, he was constantly experiencing it, and it was a constant distraction from the anger slowly taking over his body. He didn’t want to be angry with Makoto. He honestly didn’t. But it was hard to fight the bitter frost creeping over his mind whenever he recalled their argument. The childish side of him wanted to blame Makoto for bringing it up in the first place. The somewhat less childish side of him wanted to blame Makoto for leaving so abruptly, instead of staying and working whatever had happened out like an adult. He’d never been a very patient or considerate person, and he had to constantly remind himself that this had probably been eating Makoto alive for a while, now. He wouldn’t have brought it up if it hadn’t. But the tight hurt in Sousuke’s chest was hard to ignore, and he found that his common sense was losing a battle with raw, confused emotions that placed the blame on either himself or Makoto. It was a wretched cycle. 

“...General Yamazaki?” a gentle voice probed from the door, and Sousuke rolled over somewhat desperately, the blankets tangling with his legs, in hopes that Makoto would be the one to greet him. His heart sank a little when he saw it was the silver-haired messenger at the door, poking his head in. Sousuke tried to recall his name… Something short, a little annoying. Ai, or something like that. 

G-General Yamazaki, are you awake?” the messenger stammered, wilting a little under Sousuke’s gaze. Sousuke figured he must’ve looked pretty intimidating, then. With his sharp glare, annoyed frown, and inflamed shoulder that shown like a pink stone in the sunlight from his window. 

...Makoto wouldn’t have been intimidated. He probably would’ve supplied one of those gentle smiles, and exclaimed how fluffy Sousuke’s hair looked in the morning. He would’ve ruffled it fondly, and kissed Sousuke’s nose, purring sweetly with that intoxicating voice of his. And Sousuke would’ve fitted their mouths together in a kiss drunken with morning laziness.

“General Yamazaki, the sultan would like to see you,” the messenger continued, snapping Sousuke out of his bittersweet thoughts. 

“Tell him I don’t feel well,” Sousuke growled, rolling back over. He frowned in irritation when he didn’t hear the door close. Which meant the silver-haired boy was still there. Which meant Rin had given specific instructions in being persistent.

“He…wanted me to tell you that you have visitors.”

Sousuke had to force himself not to sit up immediately at that. He focused on carrying the action out sluggishly, as if he didn’t care, and faced the messenger again. 

“...Tachibana?” he asked, wincing at how hopeful his deep voice sounded. Annoyance flashed through him when the messenger had the nerve to regard him with sympathy. 

“No. But I think it has something to do with the young healer Tachibana. You’re visitors seemed very… emotional, when they were escorted into the palace. They’re waiting for you in the dining hall.” 

“Ah.” Sousuke’s frown deepened. He sighed, and forced himself out of bed, pointedly ignoring the fiery pain in his shoulder. “Fine, then. Tell the sultan I’ll be out in a moment. He can indulge my mystery guests until I’m properly prepared.” 

“Yes, General Yamazaki.” The silver-haired messenger dipped his head and slipped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Sousuke sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

He just wanted to see Makoto again. 

***

Upon his entrance into the dining room, Sousuke was greeted by four different pairs of eyes snapping onto him. His pace slowed as he approached, disturbed by the urgency in all four gazes. 

Rin and Nanase were the only two Sousuke recognized. They sat close together, their knees brushing. Sousuke couldn’t help a wince at how desperate the pair of them looked. Rin’s eyebrows were brought together in concern, forming a line in his forehead. His crimson hair was uneven, as if he’d been running his hands through it nervously. His lips, usually pulled upwards in a teasing smirk, were flat and carried the trace of a grimace. Nanase shared a similar expression, but his blue eyes boiled with cold fire that immediately focused on Sousuke. He looked panicked, like a wild dog. His body was tensed, his fingers curled into the fabric of his robes and his knuckles white. He looked paler than Sousuke remembered him being. Granted, he and Nanase had rarely crossed paths, but Sousuke could’ve sworn he’d had a healthier complexion, before. 

The other two were a pair of men Sousuke didn’t know. Although… Maybe ‘men’ wasn’t the right word. These two seemed younger, especially the short blonde with a boyish face and the clothing of a dancer. It didn’t help that he was clinging to his companion, (a dark-haired boy with violet eyes and a guard uniform,) like a child clinging to his mother. The blonde boy’s cheeks were streaked with the tracks of tears, leaving clean lines down his sand-dusted face. His rosy eyes brimmed and glistened when he looked up to see Sousuke approach. His bespectacled companion didn’t show any sign of crying, but his gaze was unfocused and shaken, as if he’d just witnessed a murder and wasn’t sure how to comprehend it. 

“Um… Hello,” Sousuke grunted a reply, perplexed. The room he’d just entered boiled with an inexplicable tension. He was almost tempted to turn right back around and go back to the security of his bed, but curiosity got the better of him, and he approached the four men, sitting beside Nanase and folding his legs. He studied the unfamiliar pair warily. “I’m General Yamazaki. You’re my guests? To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

The blonde boy swallowed. “Sousuke…” 

Sousuke couldn’t help flinching. Uneasiness settled over him at hearing this sniffling boy utter his first name, as if they knew each other well. They didn’t, did they? Sousuke was pretty sure he’d never seen this person before… 

“What have you done with him?” an urgent hiss caught Sousuke’s attention. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Nanase, bringing his eyebrows together. 

“Excuse me?” 

“What have you done with him?” Nanase spoke again, louder this time. His voice was sharp, like a blade, and Sousuke wasn’t prepared for the ferocity in that maddened blue gaze when it snapped onto him. 

“Haru…” Rin began. The single word was strained, and uncertainty flickered across his face. He reached forward to take Nanase’s hand, but Nanase swatted him away, not tearing his eyes off of Sousuke. 

“What do you mean?” Sousuke growled. He was growing steadily more confused, (and agitated.) 

“With Makoto.” 

“...I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.” 

Nanase lunged toward him, teeth bared, and grasped the front of his robes. Sousuke barely had time to let out a strangled roar of protest before he was shaken with surprising strength, his vision growing blurred. He was conscious of Nanase spitting demands in his face, but exhaustion made the words fuzzy, and Sousuke found himself struggling to focus on one thing at a time. His shoulder ached. He didn’t appreciate this much action so early after being woken up, and reminded himself to thwack Nanase across the face for this later. 

“Haru!” Rin cried in a mixture of anger and alarm. He leaped to his feet and dragged Nanase off of Sousuke by the wrists, his robes swirling around him like a halo of color. His sharp teeth caught the light as he snarled. “I told you, he had nothing to do with it! Makoto hasn’t-”

“Let go of me!” Nanase hissed. He wrenched himself out of Rin’s grasp, his sharp eyes snapping back onto Sousuke. When he spoke again, his voice caught with what Sousuke could only interpret as fury. The room echoed with the poison dripping from his words. “What have you done with my best friend, Yamazaki?”

“H-Haru, please don’t,” the blonde boy whimpered. 

“Shut up, Nagisa,” Nanase snapped at him with surprising venom. The boy winced, his rosy eyes growing wide and his chin trembling. The spectacled young man wrapped his arm around him and held him close. 

“D-don’t talk to Nagisa that way,” he said, his voice shrill. His gaze flickered between Sousuke and Nanase, violet eyes wide with thinly veiled panic. 

“He didn’t mean it,” Rin protested. He reached to grab Nanase’s wrist again, and heaved him back, forcing their sharp gazes to meet. Nanase parted his lips to snarl a reply, but Rin cut him off. “You need to calm the hell down, Haru. I told you, Sousuke hasn’t seen Makoto for days. He isn’t the one to-” 

“Then who is?” Nanase snapped. Sousuke watched in fascinated horror as Nanase’s face began to crumple with emotion. That was certainly new. “Who else is there in the world who would hurt Makoto? Who else would choose him, of all people?” 

“I don’t know!” Rin said through gritted teeth, “But you can’t just go around shaking people like some sort of crazed animal. We’re never going to find him if you threaten every person who-” 

“Wait, wait,” Sousuke forced himself to speak up, and all four pairs of eyes snapped back onto him. He swallowed. When he spoke again, his voice felt weak, devoid of emotion. “...What’s this about Makoto?” 

They all seemed to visibly falter. Nanase examined him warily, his gaze growing pained. The other two, who Sousuke didn’t know, exchanged a look filled with tense emotion that Sousuke didn’t understand, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Rin wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked at the ground, hair framing his face, and seemed to fight for the right words. Sousuke’s stomach solidified to rock. He looked between all of them, desperate for some sort of reply. 

“We… Found this, on Makoto’s door.” The spectacled young man withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his guard uniform, and held it out for Sousuke to take. Sousuke didn’t accept it immediately. He looked from the paper to the young man and back again, before tentatively reaching forward to pinch the paper between his fingers. He brought it to rest in his lap, his heart beating a little more furiously as he forced himself to read the elegantly written letters. 

 

‘Tachibana family and friends,  
We regret to inform you that last night was the last time you will have seen the young healer, Makoto. He has been seized by the government of Iwatobi, under the rightful command of our sultan and general. He will continue his days as a servant and personal healer to General Yamazaki, and will be contained behind the palace walls until he is no longer fit to work or please.  
Do not expect to see him again. Any attempts to retrieve him from the control of General Yamazaki will result in death.’ 

 

Below was the scarlet wax stamp of the general of Iwatobi’s symbol. Sousuke's symbol.

Sousuke read and reread the letter a couple times, his stomach sinking a little further with each word. He slumped back and stared at nothing, the paper flopping against his knee. His surroundings slowly began to fuzz, Rin’s voice probing if he was alright a mere echo in his mind. He swallowed, but the action was surprisingly painful. His throat felt as dry as scorched sand. 

“I… I didn’t write this,” he managed after a moment. And he hadn’t. He knew he hadn’t, because he never would’ve written something like this. But the dried wax that clung to the paper like dry blood bore the symbol of the golden stamp in his chambers. Nobody else in Iwatobi was in possession of a stamp that so resembled his. He tried to make sense of it, but his mind felt empty and deadened. 

“I know you didn’t, Sousuke,” Rin said, after a moment. Sousuke didn’t meet his gaze, but he was aware of him coming to crouch at his side, and felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. 

“Who has seen this?” Sousuke asked. His grip on the paper tightened, and the flimsy material crunched under the strength of his hand. 

“Makoto’s family, and a few of their customers,” the spectacled guard said. He shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “Word will undoubtedly spread beyond that, though. The Tachibanas are well known for their healing abilities, especially after the sultan himself requested their services. Makoto’s disappearance will not go unnoticed.” 

“But I didn’t write this,” Sousuke echoed himself weakly. 

“Yes, I know.” The guard sighed. “But your insignia was somehow branded on the announcement. So, as far as the Tachibanas and everyone else is aware, you did write that.”

“But I didn’t,” Sousuke protested. His teeth clenched, and he curled his lips back in a snarl. He shook the paper in the face of the guard. “I haven’t seen Makoto for a week. This is the first I’ve heard of this. If this is some sort of cruel joke-” 

“It’s not,” Rin cut him off. He regarded Sousuke somewhat sympathetically, his own hurt twisting his features. “I’m sorry, Sousuke.” 

Sousuke shook his head sharply. He laughed a hollow laugh. The sound echoed against the walls of the dining chamber, coming back to him with the force of a flying arrow. “No. No, Makoto wouldn’t let himself be abducted. Nobody would do that to him. He’s… He’s Makoto.” 

“This isn’t him. This is you,” Nanase hissed. The words were like splinters of ice in Sousuke’s chest. It was a struggle to meet those blue eyes, that burned with such loathing and intensity that he felt as if his skin was being stripped under them. “This is your fault.”

“Haru…” the blonde boy protested weakly, “Please don’t. He... He couldn’t have known.” 

“He could’ve stayed away from him,” Nanase snapped, not taking his eyes off of Sousuke, “He could’ve minded his own damn business. He could’ve shown a bit of control and realized how much Makoto had to lose from some sort of petty affair.” 

“That’s awfully hypocritical, isn’t it?” the young man with the glasses said with a high voice. Sousuke turned to look at him, his eyebrows coming together. He studied the two strangers, feeling as if he needed to distract himself from the painfully flimsy beating of his heart that rattled his ribs, and the way Nanase was glaring at him. As if he really were to blame for this. As if this were something that was actually, really happening, and that couldn't be right. This couldn't be real.

“...Who are you?” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “W-why are you here?” 

“Sousuke…” Rin began, but he faltered, and didn’t continue. 

“I’m Rei, and this is Nagisa,” the spectacled young man offered with a small voice. 

“We’re his friends,” The blonde boy added, wiping his eyes, “We’re some of his best friends. And we’re here because we didn’t want to believe that you would take him away from us.” He gave a tentative smile. “And we were right, weren’t we? I mean, you’re going to help us find him...Right?” 

Sousuke could only offer a nod. He continued to stare at the pair, recalling the times that Makoto had mentioned them. It was strange, seeing them in person. When Makoto had described them, they had seemed like far-away destinations, or precious jewels - parts of Makoto’s beautiful storytelling that Sousuke would never witness himself. And Makoto, with his sweet voice and distant looks, had described them as confident, strong young men who let nothing get in their way. He admired them so much… And here they were, crouched before Sousuke like lost children, shaking over the disappearance of their friend. 

“Why would anybody take him away?” the blonde boy, Nagisa, asked nobody in particular. He scooted closer to his companion’s side, curling his fingers into his robes and studying the patterns of the carpet. 

“I don’t know. I suppose somebody is trying to weaken the strongest members of Iwatobi by stripping them of what they love,” Rin said. His voice was hollow and detached, as if it weren’t really him saying those things. “It’s killing two birds with one stone, though. Not only are they trying to weaken Sousuke through taking Makoto, but they’re pinning it on him, to turn the public against the palace.” He looked to Sousuke, his angular eyebrows coming together. “We should’ve seen this coming. Tensions have been rising between the classes for years, now. It doesn’t help that my father died so young, forcing me to take the throne when I was so inexperienced. There are still things that he never got the chance to teach me, and the people aren’t going to let me forget it easily.” 

He bit his lip and looked away, running an absent hand through his hair. “...This is my fault, in a way. I couldn’t have done anything about inheriting the throne, but it was selfish of me to appoint you general, when my advisors warned me about personal ties. I knew that you would take care of Iwatobi, and I wanted you at my side, but having such young leading officers makes Iwatobi look weak, and easy to shake... And now Makoto’s paying for it. I’m sorry.” 

Silence fell over them at the lack of Sousuke’s reply. It was painful, and lasted too long. Tears began to fall again from Nagisa’s eyes, and Rin’s chin trembled in the way it hadn't since they were children. Sousuke watched, horror making his muscles tensed, as his best friend fought tears, his hands curling desperately in his hair. Nanase moved to comfort him, and the two fit together like interlocking pieces, leaning against each other and lending shaky support. The silence dragged, and Sousuke’s heart pounded in his ears. It was as if all of them were awaiting Makoto’s voice to break the tension, to change the subject and guide them to some sort of distraction, with his careful consideration and gentle knowing. 

Sousuke wanted to scream. He wanted to shout, and cry, and fight, and run off and root the city up into turmoil until he found Makoto. He wanted to do that all so desperately, but he felt drained of energy, as if a fundamental part of him had been stripped away. He prayed to the stars that time would fold back on itself, back when everything had been perfect and Makoto had been in his arms, peppering his throat and eyelids with kisses that were softer than the touch of a feather. He wanted to go back to those first nights together, when Makoto had insisted on opening the curtains so they could see the silver dunes and stars. Makoto had always loved the stars so much. He said one night that the stars were the only constant in his life. Even after all that travelling and homesickness, the stars had always been there to comfort him. Sousuke hadn't thought anything of it, as he was more interested in brushing his lips over Makoto's warm, sweet skin, but now he wanted nothing more than to return to to that night and tell Makoto that he would catch every star in the sky and lay them down at Makoto's feet, if that's what Makoto wanted. 

When someone finally did end the painful silence, it was not the relief that Sousuke had hoped for. It was more as if a thick membrane were being sliced, and reality poured back around them like overwhelming heat. 

“Yamazaki,” Nanase said, and Sousuke forced himself to meet his eyes. They stared at each other, not daring to blink, until Nanase spoke again, his voice quivering somewhat. “Bring him back. Alright? Promise me you’ll help me bring him back.” 

“Haru…” Rin whispered. He bit his lip and shook his head. “Please, don’t go looking for Makoto. If they targeted him, they’ll probably be targeting you, too.” 

“I don’t care. I just want my best friend home.”

“Haru, Rin’s right. You should stay here, with him. Where it’s safe,” Nagisa prompted, sniffling. 

“I’m not going to sit around while Makoto is out there, somewhere, bound and gagged in a corner,” Nanase snapped. He looked back to Sousuke, his eyes almost pleading. “Please. If you ever loved Makoto, help me find him.” 

“Haru-” 

“No. Let him,” Sousuke said, cutting off any further protests. He balled the letter up in his hands and stuffed it beneath his robes. Every fiber of his body rigid with contained fury, he stood, and turned his back on the men, striding towards the door. “The more men I have looking, the better.”

“Sousuke,” Rin called somewhat desperately, his voice sharp, “Don’t just go waltzing off like that! Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Sousuke didn’t bother stopping. 

“I’m going to go kick some sick bastard’s ass.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback and kudos appreciated! <3


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